


OS Valkyrie Profile

by Lotornomiko



Category: Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria, Valkyrie Profile Series, Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, But it's NOT of Lenneth or of Silmeria, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Romance, slight rape warnings for a character in a flash back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 286,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valkyrie sisters torn apart by a law of their king must deal with new lives as mortal and vampire as all the while the real truth behind the war, and Brahms and Odin's fued looms near, threathening to shatter apart everything they ever believed in. Lezard Lenneth and Brahms Silmeria pairings.</p><p>As of 9/12/2017 I have started extensive work on the overall story. Am trying to improve upon the existing chapters, fix sentence structure, word flow, typos, and just try to make it an even better overall read. Partly cause my own writing style has changed since when I first started this story, but also with the hopes giving it it's fix up will finally get me to work on writing chapter 44. As of this date, chapter one has been worked over, and has several hundred new words to it's complete tally.</p><p>As of 9/29/2017 the first seven chapters have gotten their face lift, and now have added several thousands words to the overall story. Please note. chapers 1-3 haven't gotten much in the way of new content, but chapters four-seven have been massively overhauled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard Disclaimer time. I do not own Valkyrie Profile, and the characters of VP. That honor belong to Tri Ace and Square Enix. I make no money off of this fic either. It's done purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> The fate of the retired Valkyries are inspired by the game Odin Sphere. The pairing of Brahms and Silmeria is a gift fic thing for my friend Huntress. Hope you like dear!
> 
> \----Michelle

There was the sound of feet crunching down upon a gravel lined path, a multitude of rocky bits being crushed underfoot. The noise of that gravel being disturbed was one that should have barely registered amidst the roar of over a thousand voices that were currently raised up in battle. Those screams conveyed so much, that of challenge, that of victory, and even that of fear. Those voices, their yells, all blended together to the point that one could not pick out any distinct words being spoken amidst the shouts and the metallic clangs of weapons in the midst of battle.

The savagery of that battle did not deter her, if anything it made Lenneth eager to add her own voice to that chaos. Her fingers would actually clench tight on the hilt of her sword, as Lenneth actively imagined wielding the blade, and losing herself to the near mindless violence of the night's fighting. Something like a grim smile briefly stretched her lips, Lenneth continuing her purposeful way down the cliff side. There at it's bottom base was where the figures fought, and it was there that an an all too eager and ever ready Lenneth would go to join them, literally leaping into the midst of that fray. To make such a jump would be careless from her current and lofty height, Lenneth needing to get much lower before she could truly make the dive down.

She wouldn't allow her eagerness to give way to any type of carelessness. That would only lead to mistakes, and on the battlefield, such an error could lead to injury or even death. Neither was what she actually wanted, though to Lenneth, the woman felt that death would be preferable to the suffering that would come from the sustaining of a debilitating injury in battle. A shudder worked it's way through her, one that had nothing to do with the fighting, and everything to do with the thoughts that came unbidden to her. Such thoughts were unwelcome, Lenneth thinking of the reason why she was currently wound so tight and made so eager to fight.

Those thoughts in her head were a persistent presence, her only retreat from them, that of the solace that there was to be found in the fighting. If Lenneth could build up the proper rhythm, she could then block out the thoughts, forget everything but the dealing of death to those who would harm her and those left under her protection. She was actively longing for it, for the distraction, and the solace that she would find going hand in hand with her sword. This desperate a need was what had driven her from the castle, fleeing a sight that was better off forgotten. But even the pathway from the castle to this battlefield was a lot longer than she would have liked, allowing for the flashes of memory that still came to her. Haunting her with the remembered images. That of blood, the crimson liquid splattered everywhere. Of pale blonde hair that was soaked and streaked red with it, a direct result of the victim laying down in an ever widening puddle of it. Of that woman’s skin growing paler by the second, her indigo armor shattered open.

Lenneth would then hiss, finding that she had started gripping her sword ever too tightly. So harsh and unrelenting was her grip, that the woman was sure that the bejeweled decorations that decorated it’s hilt would make a striking imprint on the palm of her hand. She almost didn't care, too busy fighting the memories, and knowing that it was just a few feet more until she could join in the battle. She tried to keep a particularly upsetting and unwanted thought from her, tried not to focus on the fact that the fighting would be one important combatant short, or how these troops were now lacking one of their most capable of commanders. 

Her focus thus far divided, Lenneth still managed to maintain her awareness to keep up with her intent study of the fighting closest to the cliff's bottom. The two groups seemed equally matched, the Valkyries and their einherjar fighting the undead forces of the Lord Brahms. These particular undead were composed predominately of vampires, but it wasn’t always so. The vampires, like so many of the undead, were often forced to wait for more optimal conditions before they could come out of the holes that they regularly hid in. The ultimate in the vampire’s ideal? That of a night fall such as the one that was currently blanketing the sky, but second best would be the times when the worst of the sun was lost to the overcast of clouds, turning a winter’s day dark enough to serve a blood sucker well for their nefarious purpose. 

That purpose was to remain a constant thorn in the Asgardians’ side, the vampires and the rest of the undead out and about to impede and pester the warriors of the Divine. Signs of their handiwork was laid out every where, the most prominent being that of the flashes of light Lenneth spied winking in and out through out the battlefield. It was the vampires own brand of magic, the undead terrors teleporting to and fro. It was just one of the unfair advantages that these monsters had, these fiends using their powers to vanish before a blade could strike a killing blow upon their body. Such a feat meant that the Valkyries and their einherjar HAD to always be faster than the fanged foes that they faced. They didn’t always succeed at that, but on this night, Lenneth was pleased to see that dozens upon dozen of rotting corpses were already laying down on the field. Her troops were performing more than adequately against the vampire threat on this night.

The Valkyrie’s soldiers might not even have need of her sword, though all knew that they would be a fool to turn Lenneth away. It was with that thought, that the woman finally found herself at a good enough vantage, Lenneth letting out a wild cry as she pushed off the cliff's path. Somersaulting forward, her sword caught and reflected a flash of light. The trained warriors of both sides knew enough not to be distracted by that spark, concentrating instead on the opponents before them. 

A few others cleared out of a way, a spot opening up for Lenneth to land in. With a solid thump, her body was grounded, the impact bringing her knees to nearly touch against the packed dirt. That jarring impact practically rattled Lenneth’s teeth in her jaw, but she allowed no pain or discomfort to distract or to stop her. A split second instance had passed, and already she was lurching upright, sword moving effortlessly in an upwards swing. It caught the vampire that had teleported directly before her right in the chin, a sickening squelch being heard as the blade severed the man's face in half. Blood soaked her sword, but there was no time to clean it, Lenneth pivoting on her feet. Her sword slashed about with her spin, cutting open the stomach of a random ghoul.

Guts began spilling out of that creature, and yet the ghoul still fought. It would take a lot more than disemboweling to kill that particular breed of undead. It's head would have to be taken, cleaved clean off it's neck, before the creature would cease mimicking a life that it had no right to. 

Poison coated claws slashed across her armor. The cobalt blue metal remained unmarked, the ghoul's claws sliding harmlessly off the breast plate. It didn't stop the near mindless monster from trying again, claws slashing, going for the bit of skin between elbow and shoulder that was not guarded by any of the metal. Lenneth was forced to quickly block the claws with her sword, wanting no poison tipped scratch to befall that all too vulnerable skin.

Other fiends rushed her, another ghoul and a vampire. Lenneth could not allow herself to be surrounded, the Valkyrie holding her arm out high as she swung a beheading slash towards the first ghoul's neck. The head went flying, and quickly disappeared among the combatants. She wouldn’t bother to try and track it, not when it was just one more head of many that were being kicked about and trampled on in this field.

Instead she was already turning, her twirling sword attempting to stab itself into and straight through the vampire's chest. The ghoul was doing it's shambling walk towards her, a determined look in it's eyes. A spear suddenly embedded itself in the ghoul's back, one of the einherjar having thrown the weapon in an attempt to distract the creature from the Valkyrie warrior, Lenneth. There was however no chance to issue out a personal thanks, not when in the midst of so intense a battle.

The vampire that was approaching, that had used it’s innate magic to teleport as close as possible to the warrior woman, was a creature of the elder variety. Such age made the vampire female quick with both her teleportation magics and her sharp blade. That sword was coated in the blood of what had to have once been Lenneth’s allies, and it was all to clear that the fanged fiend was just as eager to drive the weapon into yet another Valkyrie’s body. The spike of rage surged stronger, a memory riding on it’s coattails. Lenneth would not allow the fury or the haunting remembrance to consume her, secure in the knowledge that where she herself was concerned, this fight was anything but a personal vendetta for the vampiress. 

Once it would have been much the same for Lenneth, the woman holding no deeper meaning beyond that of her holy and sacred, sanctioned duty, to color that of the mercilessly efficient way in which she dispatched the many kinds of undead fiends that the Valkyrie had often encountered over the course of her long lived eternity. Now however, there was something vicious inside her, a feeling that had been awakened by a memory that was an all too real and too deep a hurt. The blood pooling everywhere, a gruesome display of carnage that lent a malicious edge to her sword play. The sword of the Valkyrie Lenneth was as brutal as it was fast, not so much finding an opening in the vampire female’s defenses as much as making one.

The vampire's blade broke in half from the force of Lenneth's first swing. The Valkyrie didn't slow down her arm at that happening. instead allowing that speed to drive her sword forward past the shattered apart pieces of the blade, into the very chest of the vampire. That female let out a scream of such immense pain, the blood she had fed on spilling out of her. It weakened the vampire, the woman trying to warp away even as Lenneth performed a downwards slash that caught the female mid teleportation. Such was the ferocity of her wounds, that the vampire was surely done for, no matter where on the battlefield her magic would dump her. If the fanged female somehow survived the trip, the vampire would still be so staggered and injured that she herself would now be an easy mark for any one of Lenneth’s many allies.

There was no need or cause for Lenneth to have to spare any further thought to THAT particular vampire. Not when there were so many of the monsters out and about, a plethora of choices availed before her, the woman charging forward to strike down the strongest one closest to her. She’d pass by many of the einherjar in the process, a rank of warriors that had been culled from the souls of the worthy few, that of the men and women that spanned the many realms’ races. These mortals all held the distinct honor of being chosen by the Valkyrie Goddesses in the name of fighting for Asgard. Though they were a dwindling resource of late, there was still enough that a distinction had had to be made, their armor different enough to give way to rank and accomplishments earned on and off the battlefield. 

The undead legions wore any and everything, from leather form fitted for mobility, to the tattered rags of the lesser of Brahms’ monsters. The one and only shared trait of their uniforms? The dark hues of bold crimson and black. It was a stark contrast to the sight of the Valkyries, each of the divine maiden’s fitted in cold metals made of a refined steel. Colored in similar shades of blue and purple, and adorned with silvers and gold filigrees, each woman’s look was just different enough to make her stand out as uniquely her own. 

With armor molded to that which was the embodiment of physical perfection, these lethal beauties were each crowned with a specific kind of helm. Each one was made of the rarest and most valuable of metal, the feathers of the fallen souls of the einherjar adorning the very winged tips of them. Such a sight made for a pretty picture, but it was only a fool that would be lulled into distraction based on the beauty alone. Not when these women fought just as brave and just as valiantly as the einherjar they had chosen. Courageous and bold, the Valkyries never faltered, never allowed thoughts of death or that of the personal threat of the vampires themselves, to color them with fear. There was only one thing that might make these divine females hesitate in the slightest. The idea of surviving long enough to outlive their usefulness.

It was a universal fact that the Valkyries were immortal females, that these women were minor deities in their own rights. Just as it was fact that little could harm them, save for their unnatural enemies, the undead minions of Lord Brahms. The vampires in particular, those fiends who loved nothing more than to get their hands on divine blood in order to drain the Gods and their Valkyrie lessers to death. That divine blood always infused the vampires with a temporary rush of power, heightening already powerful senses, and giving them more strength and speed than they would have normally had. 

A Valkyrie's blood in particular, was a well sought after prize. It was like a drug to the vampires, and the fiends were all too eager to feed their addictions. There was no end to those that would target her for that reason alone, Lenneth snarling a wordless challenge to the next nearest vampire, a man who eagerly rushed forward to cross his blade with hers. The clang of the blades was lost to the deafening roar of the battle, sparks flying as they clashed their swords together again and again.

Lenneth would barely take notice of what her opponent actually looked like. Such details didn't matter in the heat of battle, only survival and victories did. Their swords struck against one another, the two figures rebounding back. The vampire instantly teleported, appearing behind Lenneth as he sought to slash and break open the back of her armor. She turned, finding that her long hair which was tied back so neatly in a braid, was nearly severed free in the process. Several silver blue strands actually fell to the ground, that shining brilliance immediately lost as feet trampled over them.

Another battle cry from Lenneth, the Valkyrie doing a downwards slash that the vampire defended against. His sword arm lowered from the force of her blow, Lenneth preparing to strike upwards when she saw the light reflected in the fiend's eyes. With a gasp, she turned too late, just in time for a dagger to catch her on the cheek. 

Lenneth barely had time to react, seeing the other vampire bring the dagger to his lips, tongue snaking out to taste her blood that had stained upon it. Never taking her eyes off of the fiend who had dared sample her blood, the woman turned her blade, and drove it behind her, catching the other sneaking vampire right through the chest. Such was the force of her thrust, that the blade impaled all the way through to exit out the man’s back, the vampire then gagging and dying a quick, torturous death.

The vampire in front of her seemed to moan, delighting in the blood he had just stolen a taste of. Lenneth didn't know if that thin trickle was enough to give him a boost in abilities, but she knew enough to dispatch this monster and fast. She quickly jerked her sword out of the dead body slumped over behind her, attempting to then stab it forward into the very hand that held the vampire's dagger.

A flash of light left nothing but space for her sword to slash through. Lenneth gritted her teeth, and whirled around, scouting about for the vampire. He did not appear anywhere near her, the vampire more cowardly than she had first realized. With a disgusted snort, Lenneth brought up her hand to her cheek, using the back of it to wipe the blood off the slow to heal wound. To achieve that effect, the vampire's dagger had to have been one that was enchanted to delay a Valkyrie's natural borne healing powers.

A quick stock of the situation showed that there was no shortage of opponents, even with the one vampire fleeing her. Lenneth made fast work of over a dozen ghouls, to then team up with a fellow Valkyrie to slay a small handful of vampires. Time both slowed down and sped up, the battle ending too quickly for Lenneth's liking. The vampires on this patch of land were now in retreat, and several of the Valkyries took off after them with the einherjar in hot pursuit.

Truthfully, Lenneth wanted to join them in the chase, but a voice called out to her. "Lenneth, halt!" The Valkyrie's back was to the voice, but she didn't need to see the Goddess Freya to recognize her. Or her tone of displeasure, Lenneth holding in a sigh. 

"Lady Freya..." Lenneth said, making a show of cleaning off her bloodied and gore covered sword. The leather rag that she used was quickly soaking through with the grime, but the woman knew if she allowed the blood to dry, it would make her sword's blade rust. "What brings you to the battlefield?"

It was a seemingly innocent question, though both Freya and Lenneth knew the reason behind the Goddess' sudden appearance. Indeed Freya was frowning, Lenneth spying that annoyed expression out the corner of her eye. But she didn't acknowledge it, continuing to pretend to be focused on the cleaning of her weapon.

"You know very well why I am here." Freya stepped closer to Lenneth, effortlessly managing to somehow avoid the corpses and body parts that littered the battle ground. She looked disdainful of the filth, the golden haired Goddess not one for fighting, especially against such lesser beings as that of the undead. That didn't mean Freya was not capable of defending herself, the Goddess holding enough power to devastate an entire world. She simply preferred to let others get their hands dirty, while she toiled with the behind the scenes details.

It was rare for her to even come out to the battlefield. Lenneth knew she was at fault for this, something like guilt sparking through her. But it wasn't enough to get her to apologize, Lenneth staying focused on her sword. When it became apparent that was all she was going to do, Freya sighed.

"It is not your duty to be out here, not on this night especially."

"I go where my sword is needed." Lenneth finally answered her.

"You go where Lord Odin commands. Need I remind you of that?" demanded Freya. 

"I know that." Lenneth replied, her tone quiet. 

"And yet you still purposefully left the castle!" Freya let exasperation creep into her voice, Lenneth at last looking at her. "Lenneth, why? Your sister Hrist well has the situation in hand. Even now the vampires are being routed from the land that borders the castle's walls. She'll have them so disoriented and confused, that they won't even notice your absence from the battlefield."

And that was the real purpose of this latest skirmish. To distract the vampires long enough for Lenneth to escort a most precious cargo from within the castle. She almost flinched then, thinking of just what that precious something was. And with it came the memories, the bloodied hair, the broken armor, her younger sister Silmeria laying in an ever widening pool of her own blood.

"I am not abandoning my duty." Lenneth insisted out loud. "I know Hrist is to lead the distraction. But as we are not to leave until tomorrow morning, I don't see the harm in releasing some pent up energy this night."

"You are supposed to be resting." Freya pointed out. "Conserving your strength for the journey. You will not serve anyone well if you are too tired should a fight be brought before you…"

"I will never be too tired to fight." Snapped Lenneth. "Lady Freya, you needn't worry about me. I will do my duty, even if I don't like what I must do." That last bit softened Freya's expression, blue eyes warming as she gave Lenneth a sad smile.

"I understand this is a difficult time for you and your sisters. But especially for you, Lenneth. For you were always the closest to young Silmeria. But really, it is for the best."

"The best?" Anger seeped into Lenneth's voice, the emotion so violent that she nearly trembled with it. "The best for who?!"

"Your sister for one." Freya retorted. "She can hardly be expected to return to her duties in that condition."

"I know that...." The memory of Silmeria's broken body made her shudder, Lenneth lowering her now clean sword. But she didn't sheathe it, ever conscious that at any moment a vampire could appear before them. She had to remain ever vigilant, even as she fought and railed against her sister's fate. Against the fate of all Valkyrie who fell in battle, but slipped death's embrace.

"Would you have her remain here in Asagrd?" Freya questioned her. "Would you have her bombarded by constant reminders of a life she can never return to?"

"No…"

"Then do not begrudge your sister her fate." Freya told her. "Silmeria is accepting of what must be done. Why can't you be?"

"I don't think it's right...to tie her to a man..." Lenneth spoke quietly, but firmly. "To one she does not know, let alone love.…"

"Lord Rufus of Alfheim is a fine man, a capable warrior, and a just ruler. He will not be unkind to her." 

"He better not be! Or he will face the combined wrath of myself and our sister Hrist!" threatened Lenneth. "I will not tolerate my sister being mistreated, no matter by whose hand it is!"

"Calm yourself Lenneth." Advised Freya. "Lord Rufus would not dare harm Silmeria. She will live out the rest of her life as a cherished wife." And there it was, yet another reason for Lenneth's anger. When a Valkyrie was injured on the battle field, hurt to the point that they could no longer fight, they were retired. But it went beyond a simply setting down of one's arms. Odin had made a decree, to reward capable warriors of several of the nine realms with Valkyies as their brides. The battle maidens were rendered mortal, made Goddess no more. It was said that the Valkyries and the warriors that they wed, produced the strongest and best fighters to ever exist in all of the realms. Those warriors usually became einherjar for Asgard, the daughters of the Valkyries gaining their mother's immortality and the abilities that went with it. The cycle would continue, never ending for all time. Lenneth knew that one day she too might be so unfortunate as to be injured in battle. She prayed that when and if that were to happen, the vampires would drain her to death, rather than allow her to suffer life as some, as ANY, man's bride.

"I still think that it's wrong." Lenneth said at last. "After all her years of service, Silmeria should at least be allowed to pick her own husband!"

"You can rail against that fate all you want, but you cannot change what is to happen. No one can."

"Lord Brahms would if he could." Lenneth blurted out, thinking of the undead King. The vampire had an unnatural lust for her sister, Silmeria. It was the main reason why Hrist was engaging the brunt of his army at this very moment, all to keep the vampires distracted from when Silmeria would leave the castle. They all expected the vampires to make a move against Silmeria and her escort, to try and capture the former Valkyrie alive. Lenneth shuddered to think what Brahms would do once he got his hands on her sister. It was almost enough to make the Valkyrie think any man would be a better choice for Silmeria than for her to remain and fall prey to that of the undead king.

"That fiend will not get a chance to try anything!" Freya hissed. "Silmeria will be delivered safely to Lord Rufus' keep, and Brahms will be none the wiser until it is far too late." Lightning seemed to crackle across the sky, Lenneth shivering in response to it. She sincerely hoped that Freya would be proven right about that much at least.

"Now cease these delays, and return to your sister's side at once." continued Freya, her voice harsh with that command.

"Yes, Lady Freya." Lenneth sighed. The Valkyrie knew that she should be grateful for the chance to see Silmeria. After all, she didn't know when or if she would ever get the opportunity to visit with her once she was established in Alfheim.

Freya nodded her approval at Lenneth's acquiescence. And then she was turning, intent on leading Lenneth back up the cliff side’s path. Lenneth was moving to follow her, when she felt it. Eyes on her, the Valkyrie stilling for one brief moment. Freya noticed her lack of movement, a quizzical look in her eyes as she spoke. "What is it Lenneth?"

"Don't you feel that?" Lenneth was already pointing her sword, fighting the tremble that wanted to go through her. "Those eyes...staring at us…"

"There's no one here..." Freya pointed out, and Lenneth shook her head.

"I can feel it!" She turned to scour the landscape, but as Freya said, there was no one near to them. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, Lenneth shivering. The sensations associated with the look was that of someone staring into her very soul, as though their gaze was stripping away her armor to see the woman beneath it. It was an unsettling feeling, Lenneth not used to being looked at in that manner.

"Show yourself!" Lenneth demanded, pleased her sword arm did not shake. She wondered if it was the vampire who had tasted her blood, the fiend’s hunger for more driving him to return for another attempt against the battle maiden.

Freya was besides her now, slipping into a defensive posture, gold ether sparking in her hands' palms. But there was no one to fight, and though the sense of being watched continued, even Lenneth was forced to concede there was no one there.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Freya eventually decided. She would lay a hand on Lenneth's armor encased shoulder. "You are just too stressed over your sister's fate."

"I'm not imagining things." Lenneth insisted. Yet she had no other proof that anyone had been about to watch them. She still couldn’t sheathe her sword, keeping a firm grip on it's hilt as she followed Freya up the cliff side. The path at it's top would lead them to the castle, Valhalla a welcome sight that almost had Lenneth scurrying forward to get inside. The oppressive feeling of being watched left her once she was indoors, and only then did Lenneth relax enough to put away her sword.

"Go...speak with Silmeria." Freya advised her, giving her a slight push in the direction of the Valkyrie's chambers. "Cherish this time, Lenneth." The woman added. 

"I will." Promised Lenneth, giving a respectful bow to the goddess, before hurrying away. It wasn't a long walk to the chambers designated to the Valkyries, especially given the fact that no one dared to approach Lenneth. They simply saw the determined look in her eyes, and wisely kept any questions or demands for her attention to themselves.

Not even five minutes later, she was before her sister's chair, Silmeria smiling up at her. But it wasn't a Silmeria she was in any way used to seeing, the pale blonde hair tied back with ornate barrettes. The young Valkyrie was dressed in a simple night gown that was made of a lavish amount of silk. It draped down to her ankles, it's sleeves extending only to her elbows.

No blood was on Silmeria at this time. She had long since been cleaned up. But Lenneth knew under the night gown was numerous bandages, wrapped around her torso, to cover and guard the stitches on her back. It had been an enchanted blade that had slashed open the young Valkyries' back, spilling her precious blood all over the ground. The enchantment on the blade had prevented the Goddess' healing powers from working, leaving Silmeria in an immense amount of pain. Even now she could barely manage the slightest of movements without the pain flaring, and as such was unable to continue to do her duty and fight any longer.

Numerous herbs were being given to Silmeria to deaden the painful sensations. And yet Silmeria's blue eyes remained bright and clear, the young woman’s mind not addled by the drugs. She smiled at Lenneth, ever so happy to see her sister. Lenneth found it difficult to return the smile. She had to fight to keep the sadness from out of her eyes as the Valkyrie Goddess knelt down before her sister.

"Lenneth.." Silmeria said, reaching out with her right arm. She laid her hand on Lenneth's cheek, the very one that bore the cut from the vampire's dagger. "You're hurt."

"It's only a minor scratch." Lenneth told her. "It’s pain doesn't even register."

"Have you been to a healer yet? Perhaps Lady Eir could help hasten your recovery." Silmeria was concerned, hovering a finger over the thin cut.

"I will see her soon enough." Lenneth promised. But she didn't care about being healed, more concerned with her sister and her well being. "How are you feeling?"

"As well as can be expected." Silmeria sighed. "I'm sick of the herbs and potions they ply me with. They taste awful, and work almost too well. To the point I can't feel anything at all." 

"It's only for a short while." Lenneth said, speaking on what she knew of Silmeria's treatment plan. 

"I fear I will never not know this pain." Silmeria confided, and Lenneth fought not to show how horrified the idea of that made her feel. 

"Maybe we should wait on delivering you to your husband to be." Lenneth suggested. "If you are still in so much pain…"

"Lord Rufus will not wait forever..." Silmeria replied. "And I would rather get this over with, sooner rather than later." 

"It's just not fair..." Lenneth whispered, Silmeria still touching her cheek. "Why you?"

"I was careless on the battlefield. I let the vampires surround me..." Lenneth shivered, knowing that the vampires could have done a lot worse than they had. Before they could even try, Hirst and several other Valkyries had then leapt to Silmeria's defense. Not many of the vampire had survived the massacre that ensued within that hour, but it had been too little, too late, the damage already done to Silmeria.

"You weren't careless, you were outnumbered!" Came Lenneth's protest. It earned a smile from Silmeria, the young woman dropping her hand to her lap.

"You were always quick to defend me…"

"My sword is yours." Lenneth said. "Now and forever…"

"Your sword is Odin's." corrected Silmeria gently. "Never forget that."

"I don't know if I want to fight for the man who could so easily give away my sister!" Lenneth snapped, but she wasn't angry at Silmeria but at Odin and the situation that they all found themselves in. Even worse, Silmeria looked shocked at what Lenneth had just had to say. "I...I, forgive me..." She lowered her eyes, feeling properly abashed.

"Do not blame Odin. He is merely doing what he has always done for the Valkyries who cannot fight any more…"

"How can you be so...so calm about this?!" demanded Lenneth. "Why do you not fight against your fate?!"

"How can I? What can I do in this condition?" Silmeria shook her head, pain briefly glinting in her eyes. "Besides....some good can come out of this sacrifice of mine. I can make a good alliance between Asgard and Alfheim through my marriage to Lord Rufus. So you see...I still have some purpose to my life after all…"

"You've always had purpose! Regardless of your condition!"

"But it has been renewed in a different manner now." Explained Silmeria, just as a knock sounded on the door. Lenneth rose up off her knees, calling out in a commanding voice.

"Who goes there?"

"It is I, Frei." It was the goddess Freya's younger sister, which wouldn’t have truly surprised Lenneth given the night’s circumstances. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Answered Silmeria, and the door then opened. A petite sized Goddess was revealed, dressed in forming fitting brown tunic. She carried something in her hands, some sort of vial with a bright pink potion sloshing about. "More pain medicine from Eir?" sighed Silmeria.

"No...this comes from Lord Odin himself." Frei walked towards them, her normally bright and cheery face looking sad. 

"Lord Odin?" Lenneth gasped, realizing what the potion had to actually be. "So soon?"

"Silmeria must make her choice now." Frei said. "If she's going to enter the enchanted sleep, she must do so soon..." 

The enchanted sleep was a spell that the retired Valkyries sometimes made use of. It forced them into an unnatural slumber, the maidens sleeping until awakened by a kiss. That kiss damned them to love the person who had administered it. To some Valkyries it was a blessing, to instantly love the man they had been given to. But not all saw it that way, and not all took the potion. It was always left up to the individual Valkyrie to decide. Most chose not to take the potion, not wanting their love to be a manufactured illusion. 

The love that the potion infused the recipient with, was all consuming. The Valkyries afflicted with it, tended to devote their entire being to their husbands. It seemed a terrible way to live, to be under a man's thumb so completely. Lenneth glared at the potion, focusing all her hate on it in the moment.

Silmeria was also looking, Frei trying not to fidget under the two sisters’ combined stare. And then the blonde was gesturing for the Goddess to approach her, Lenneth's lips setting into a disapproving line as Silmeria reached for the vial. "Such a small but powerful thing..." Silmeria mused, holding the vial up so it caught the light of the room. "Able to change the course of one's heart…"

Lenneth wanted to beg Silmeria not to take the potion, but knew that it wasn't her decision. If the enchantment could make this aspect of Silmeria's future any easier, who was she to begrudge her sister love? Even if that love was faked? 

"Lord Rufus is a good man, is he not?" Silmeria asked, and Frei nodded in answer.

"By all reports he is." 

Silmeria uncorked the vial, holding it up to her nose to sniff at the contents. "A good man.." She began to tip the vial over, the potion spilling not into her mouth, but onto the floor. Frei gasped and took a step forward, Lenneth putting out an arm to stop her. "Deserves better than a manufactured love."

"Silmeria…"

"I will go to him without the enchantment." Silmeria announced. "If it is meant to be, he will earn my love over the course of our marriage."

"So be it." Frei sighed, and Lenneth nodded in approval. Silmeria then dropped the empty vial on the floor, her strength seeming to have left her. "It's been a long time since any Valkyrie has chosen to enter the enchanted sleep. I should not be surprised at your choice."

"No, you shouldn't." Silmeria had closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat. 

"Sister....you should rest now. We have a long journey ahead of us, and will be leaving early in the morning."

"A good idea Lenneth." Silmeria said, still keeping her eyes closed. It seemed as if she was ready to sleep the night away in this seat of hers. Lenneth hated to rouse her, but the Valkyrie was insistent that Silmeria get some sleep in an actual bed. As such, Lenneth and Frei both offered support to an unstable Silmeria, helping her to walk to her bed. Silmeria was almost asleep the instant after she was laid down, Lenneth gazing down fondly at her as she smoothed back her younger sister’s hair. 

"You should get some sleep too." Frei said. "You'll be leaving at first light…"

Lenneth nodded. They intended to leave as early as possible, wanting to put as much distance as they could between here and the vampire's camp. They all suspected that the vampires would make another attempt on Silmeria, and were desperate to keep that from happening. If there was one good thing about Silmeria's marriage to Rufus, it was that it would keep her far away from Brahms. And that notion gave Lenneth some small comfort, the Valkyrie finally retiring to her own bed chamber. She wouldn't have been able to sleep as easy as she did if Lenneth had known of what disasters actually awaited them on the morrow.

 

To Be Continued!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking title suggestions too!
> 
> Chapter updated Sept 12, 2017. Over several hundred words added, in my attempt to make corrections, fix the flow of the story, typos, that sort of thing. 
> 
> Chapter updated again on January 9, 2018. Did some more….fixing. Not sure how many more words were actually added. Hopefully this is the final major revision.
> 
>  
> 
> Michelle


	2. Two

It wasn't the best day for traveling. That much had been apparent when dawn came and went, and barely a sliver of sunlight could be found. The sky was overcast, crowded with storm clouds that ranged in color from dark grays to hostile near blacks. Between the clouds and the early morning fog that had just rolled in, Lenneth was sure something unnatural was occurring. She simply refused to believe that their luck was that bad otherwise.

With little light and low visibility, it was the ideal conditions for the vampires to attack in. Such a thing was not lost on any of the divine party, an air of unease infusing them all. Lenneth had wanted to call off their travels, and not just from a purely selfish standpoint. She felt it too dangerous to travel on a day like this, but other factors were just as insistent that they leave at once. Her sister Hrist well had the vampires distracted, the battle being driven away from the castle’s surrounding lands. That offered a slim window of opportunity for Lenneth and her entourage to escort Silmeria from it, and all because the undead would not fall victim to the same tricks twice.

Their reinforcements would soon be coming, the undead legions of Brahms would be determined to take back every bit of ground they had thus far lost to the Asgardians. It had to be now or never if Silmeria were to flee to her new life and home. If there was one thing that Lenneth could take comfort from, it was that Silmeria would be safe in Lord Rufus' keep. She'd be away from the fighting, and the vampires, and most importantly, Silmeria would be safely free of the obsessed reach of Lord Brahms.

Lenneth tried not to shudder with her distaste whenever she thought of Brahms and his unhealthy interest towards her younger sister, Silmeria. It was unnatural, this lust he has had for Silmeria. A vampire shouldn't desire a Valkyrie, save for the blood that coursed through her veins. But Brahms wanted more than that, could have and indeed HAD taken blood from any other Valkyrie that had ever crossed his path.

Brahms alone was such as to be responsible for countless deaths among the Valkyrie ranks. He could and did kill without mercy, without hesitation, only growing his power with every death added to his tally. And yet there had been something about Silmeria that had been different enough to stay his hand. Silmeria had never elaborated on her few chance encounters with the undead king, save to mention how disturbed that the vampire had made her. Lenneth thought she might never pry the true story from Silmeria's lips, she was that closed off when it came to the subject of Brahms.

That Brahms had allowed his vampires to so savagely attack and injure Silmeria, troubled Lenneth greatly. What sort of monster would allow that to befall the woman he so desired? Lenneth wondered if she'd ever get a chance to ask him about that, or if she would slay him before he could utter out even one word. Of course, Lenneth might be deluding herself in thinking she could take down Brahms. He was after all, the strongest and most ancient of the undead, holding his throne not just with the strength of his powers and keen fighting intellect, but that of his age and the wisdom that came from an eternity of experience.

With Brahms in her thoughts, Lenneth turned in her saddle, glancing behind her for reassurance. The carriage that was Silmeria's mode of transport continued to roll steadily along the dirt path, it’s two mares plodding along at a steady clip. To the front and behind the carriage was several Valkyries, each one seated on an impressive sized stallion. The horses that the Valkyries rode upon were bred for war, holding a strength and speed that was only rivaled by their hearty endurance. These magnificent steeds could and most often did travel long distances without tiring.

There was fifteen horses in all, the others being used by high ranking einherjar. The rest of their entourage was on foot, and lagging behind the last of the horses. There was still another contingent of einherjar ahead of this party. They worked to prepare the path Lenneth and Silmeria’s group would travel upon, cutting down low hanging branches, and making sure there was no fallen trees to block the road up ahead. They would even check to make sure that there were no traps or ambushes laid out, and waiting, ready and willing to dispatch any and all attackers that might seek to way lay the main party.

So far they had done good work. To the point that the entourage hadn't had to stop even one time. Lenneth was satisfied with the progress that they were making, the party fast approaching the Forest of Spirits. Already in the distance she could make out the first of the trees that crowded together to form the forest. It wouldn't take much longer to reach them, though the traveling through them would take at least a day.

There was an Elven settlement within the forest. Those elves were well prepared to receive Lenneth and her sister, holding fresh horses for the advance party’s few riders. It was also there that the main party would break to camp briefly. Lenneth understood that many in her party needed rest, her sister Silmeria most of all. Her sister was too weak and in pain to ride directly on a horse, the girl having had to take many herbal tonics just to weather the bouncing about her carriage was doing. Silmeria took this all in stride, not offering any complaints though all that jostling had to be causing her much pain.

Lenneth's hands tightened on the reigns of her horse. That and the tensing of her lips was the only sign that betrayed her upset. She then let her horse fall back from the front of the escort, drawing instead to the right side of Silmeria's carriage. Once they had left behind Asgard and it’s borders, Silmeria had been allowed to draw back the curtains of her carriage's windows. There wasn’t as much reason to fear her being seen in this forest, as much as they had on the golden plains of Idavoll.

"How are you feeling." Lenneth asked, gazing into the carriage's window. Silmeria eased herself closer to it, giving a weak smile to her sister. Lenneth studied her for any signs of discomfort, noting Silmeria had her golden colored hair tied back with a pale blue ribbon. A dress that was colored in white with a blue trim that matched the ribbon, and made her eyes all the more brighter. But Silmeria looked far too pale for Lenneth's liking, and her eyes were feverish. No doubt from all the pain potions she was needing to take to endure this trip. Lenneth wanted to glare, but it was not to Silmeria who her anger was directed at.

"I will be better when our journey is ended." It was as close to an admission of pain as Silmeria would give her, Lenneth's knuckles turning white from how tight she then gripped the reins in response.

"We'll rest once we're within the forest's confines." Promised Lenneth. 

"Are you sure that is wise? We should at least push to reach the village first." Silmeria suggested.

"We are making good progress. An earlier rest won't hurt us much." Lenneth countered. Silmeria looked like she doubted that, but was too weak to properly argue with her sister. Indeed she was already closing her eyes, seeming to sag in her seat. Lenneth thought to move on, to give her the rest she so desperately needed when Silmeria spoke again.

"Will you be staying for the ceremony?"

That question gave Lenneth pause, the Valkyrie not having thought much to what would happen after she delivered Silmeria to Rufus. "Would you like me to?"

Silmeria opened her eyes then, her lips seeming to tremble with the effort of smiling. "You're my sister, and one of my dearest friends. Of course I want you there."

"Then my return to Asgard can wait." Lenneth told her, offering a smile back that was just as weak in strength. She couldn't feign real cheer at the thought of watching Silmeria be given to a man to possess, even if that man was rumored to be as kind hearted as Lord Rufus was said to be. Nor was she ready or eager to abandon Silmeria so completely to her new life as a bride. And if it would help the young woman to have Lenneth attend the wedding ceremony, than nothing on earth or in the heavens would keep the Valkyrie from her sister's side.

"Thank you." Her sister's gratitude was worth a million smiles to Lenneth. The Valkyrie thought Odin could be damned if he would begrudge her the chance to say a long good-bye to Silmeria. Lenneth would just have to make him understand how she had had to remain in Alfheim long enough to see Silmeria married. If Lenneth could have, she would have remained even longer, all to make sure her sister was settling into her new life with ease.

"There is no need to thank me." Lenneth replied. "I am glad to do this for you."

"You have my thanks all the same." Silmeria told her. 

It was enough to make Lenneth flustered, the Valkyrie giving a shake of her head. "Rest if you can." She told Silmeria, and then snapped the reins so that her horse trotted fast once more. No one commented on Lenneth's return to the head of the entourage, indeed there was little talk going on at all. The three Valkyries that rode with Lenneth and Silmeria were in somber moods, privately lamenting the fate that befell nearly all battle maidens eventually.

The einherjar were also relatively quiet, focusing more on walking rather than chatting with their fellow comrades in arms. The quiet was good, for it drew less notice to the party, and what noise they did make was hidden by the constant rumble of thunder. The storm wasn't that far off now, the only question was of how severe the rain would actually be. One Valkyrie kept glancing up at the sky, a frown on her face. Lenneth wasn't the only one to think manipulative magic had to do with the storm.

"It's a bad omen Lenneth." She muttered, and another Valkyrie called out.

"It's just a storm, Gwendolyn."

"It's more than that. Can't you feel it?" Gwendolyn demanded. Lenneth found herself nodding in agreement, and was chilled by Gwendolyn's next words. "There's death on the horizon...I am sure of it…"

"What do you sense?" Lenneth asked, but Gwendolyn shook her head no.

"It's just a feeling...we should have never tried to make this journey."

"Come now, Gwendolyn. You'll spook our troops if you continue to speak such nonsense!" Gwendolyn shot a poisoned filled look at the Valkyrie who had said that, her lips thinning as she pressed them together in a disapproving frown.

"It'll be fine." Lenneth tried to sound reassuring, knowing as leader of this entourage, she couldn't let such doubts fill her people's minds. Gwendolyn let out a sigh, but was otherwise quiet. The other Valkyries followed suit, silence reigning once more. In the distant they could see the forest's edge, trees crowded in close, but not so close as to keep the horses and carriage from being able to fit in between them.

Lenneth had mixed feelings to see the forest. And all because she knew that would be an ideal place for a vampire's ambush. Between the mist, clouds, and now the covering of the tree's foliage, it would be optimal conditions for the vampires to emerge. Now more than ever, Lenneth wished for the clouds to part, for the sun to shine through, and cast down it's devastating light. Only then would she have peace of mind, this uneasy feeling lost to the bright rays of the sun light that meant a fiery death to any and all vampires who might dare venture out at this time.

But her wish would go unanswered, and soon the path led into the forest. They could see the work of the advance party of einherjar, the path clear, and marks engraved into the trunks of trees that lined either side of it. The marks spoke of a dozen things, keeping the Valkyries apprised of the advance party's progress. The einherjar were at least thirty minutes ahead of Silmeria and her escort, and Lenneth didn't expect to encounter them until they reached the Elven village.

Which is why it was so unexpected to see one of the einherjar standing in the middle of the path a scant ten minutes later. The man was clad in gray chainmail, an iron mask pulled down over the front of his face. The mask hid all details from them, including the color of the man's eyes. Lenneth guided her horse towards the man, instantly suspicious. There was something off about this situation, and she found herself drawing her sword long before she had reached the einherjar.

"What's going on?" Lenneth demanded. "Why are you just standing here? Where is the rest of the advance party?" He said nothing, which angered another Valkyrie, the woman drawing up besides Lenneth's horse.

"What are you doing?! Answer her!" She snarled, her own sword already drawn. It was then that it happened, the man teleporting away just as a spear went flying through the space he had once occupied. Lenneth reacted on instinct, realizing that was no man but a vampire dressed in the armor of an einherjar. She jerked on the reigns of her horse, the stallion rearing up on it’s hind legs. It was that that saved the horse, though the Valkyrie besides her wasn't so lucky. The spear slammed into her ride's side, the horse letting out an unnatural scream, a sound that spoke of it’s pain and it’s encroaching death as it went down hard to the ground.

The Valkyrie cursed, then cried out in pain, her one leg trapped under the horse's side where it had landed from it’s toppling over. She was effectively pinned, and trying not to panic at the vulnerable state that it left her in. Einherjar were swarming about the path, some staying with Gwendolyn to guard Silmeria's carriage, others running towards Lenneth and the trapped Valkyrie.

"It's an ambush!" A man cried out the obvious, an arrow embedding itself deep in his throat a mere second later. Lights flashed, vampires teleporting onto the path, Lenneth then losing herself to the battle. She dismounted from her horse, and charge the closest vampire. Behind her, a trio of male einherjar were trying to defend the pinned Valkyrie. From the Valkyrie's screams, she knew they had not succeeded, Lenneth shuddering. There was no time to see what the vampires were doing to her comrade, Lenneth too busy attacking any and all vampires she could get in reach of.

More lights flashed about the enclosed woods, the vampires coming in waves, overwhelming the entourage’s much smaller numbers. They hadn't been able to take as large a contingent of einherjar as Lenneth would have liked, not without drawing attention to who they were transporting. It now worked in the vampires’ favor, almost ninety on the battlefield to the thirty einherjar that had accompanied the four Valkyies.

It didn't mean the einherjar fought any less valiantly. They gave it their all, willing to toss aside their lives for the chance to defend their precious cargo. Lenneth was often seen stepping over the vampires she had dispatched, all the while trying not to lose herself completely to her anger and panicked emotions. It took real concentration to keep the worst of her fears at bay, the Valkyrie having to expand real effort to focus on her next opponent without being driven to distraction by her worried thoughts

Her worry wasn’t eased by the fact that not all the vampires were that of the elder variety, Certainly her latest victim was that of a lesser vampire, one that barely registered on the power scales. It was not difficult to get her blade inside the man's chest, splitting his heart into pieces in the process. 

She would then barely get her sword free, Lenneth locking eyes with yet another vampire, a female, when she heard the sound of Silmeria scream. It was an ear piercing shriek, the former Valkyrie alerting all to her trouble. Lenneth wanted to turn and see, but the vampire woman rushed her, sword aimed to take the Valkyrie's neck. Lenneth knew the vampire was just another in a long line of distractions, and that the woman was one she couldn't afford when her sister was in need of help. Lenneth put up her sword, defending against the coming blow, and kicked out with her right leg.

"Lenneth!" It was Silmeria's voice, the young woman sounding desperate. Lenneth could hear the cursing, for somehow Silmeria was making it difficult for the vampires to take her. Lenneth was as proud as she was worried, knowing in Silmeria's pain filled condition, she'd be no match for even one vampire. But before she could rush to Silmeria's side to help, Lenneth had to dispatch the threat in front of her.

The vampire female had been momentarily staggered by Lenneth's kick. The metal greaves that Lenneth wore on her feet gave the kick an added jump to the pain it could inflict. But the vampire pushed past the pain, to swing her sword again and again, Lenneth hastily twirled her sword to the left and then the right, to block each thrust as it came for her. The exchange continued like this for several excruciatingly long moments, the vampire thrusting, and Lenneth defending against each of the blows. There was little opening to do more than defend, and Lenneth was growing desperate.

"I don't have time to play with the likes of you!" Lenneth snarled, still parrying every thrust. She kept looking for her chance, but the woman was moving with the near blinding speed of an elder vampire. Her snarled out comment just earned a laugh from the female, the woman beginning to back Lenneth up. Lenneth couldn't afford such a move, not knowing where the vampire was trying to herd her to, or towards who.

To that end, Lenneth purposefully let herself fall, her sword still moving to defend. The instant that she hit the ground, her free hand closed around dirt. The dirt was flung up and into the vampire's eyes, the female screaming as she went blind. The sword continued to thrust, and Lenneth rolled to the left, the sword being shoved deep into the ground where she had just been. Lenneth quickly did a kick out with her legs, jumping upright and turning. Her sword caught the vampire in her side, the dress splitting, and blood spurting out. Lenneth immediately pulled back her arm, this time aiming for the injured vampire's neck.

The vampire's head went flying, the fiend’s blood splattering everywhere, even on Lenneth's front. But Lenneth didn't care, turning to seek out Silmeria's carriage. She caught a brief glimpse of her sister, being dragged free of the carriage window. Silmeria had formed fists, and was beating them against the vampire's chest. He had a harassed look on his face, even as he effortlessly pulled her free. 

"Silmeria!" Lenneth was rushing towards the pair, shoving friend and foe aside. But a light flashed, the vampire teleporting away with his prize. Lenneth screamed out a no, and spun on her heel. She was running for her horse now, and Gwendolyn had joined her.

"Where are you going?!" Gwendolyn demanded, but Lenneth didn't pause.

"The vampires have to have made camp near by..." She was already reaching for the saddle of her stallion, hauling herself upright in one smooth movement. 

"You can't go alone!" Gwendolyn protested. Lenneth didn't pause, not even when hoof beats sounded behind her. It was two horses that joined hers, Gwendolyn and a third Valkyrie following her. Lenneth felt admiration for their courage, knowing they were risking a lot in following her to the vampire's camp. The einherjar that were still alive were fighting desperately against the vampires, but clearly losing. It was a brutal massacre, one that would end soon enough. Lenneth knew she couldn't make a difference here, but she could at least attempt to save her sister from Brahms.

"Thank you." Lenneth shouted to the two Valkyries that had chosen to accompany her. She barely registered what they said in return, Lenneth riding her horse hard. The stallion had yet to be winded, hooves tearing up clods of dirt as he ran faster than the wind. Her braided hair steamed out behind her, Lenneth still gripping her sword in one hand. She was almost careless in her haste, and all she could think of was that she had to get to Silmeria and fast.

The horses broke into a clearing, jumping over bodies that lay strewn haphazardly on the path. Lenneth could hear the Valkyries behind her gasping in horror, for it was their advance party of einherjar that had been so recently slaughtered. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the trees, puddles of it on the ground. The vampires hadn't had time to feed, just killing indiscriminately. It was a horrible sight, and yet Lenneth could do nothing save to ride past the bodies. 

She continued to ride, muttering urgent pleas to the stallion to go even faster. She could barely concentrate save for the fear she still felt for Silmeria, and roughly twenty minutes would pass before the trio would come upon the vampires' camp. It was a hastily constructed one, only a few tents had been set up. Not all the vampires had returned, but there was enough to give the Valkyries pause. Not Lenneth though, the woman screaming a challenge and charging her horse forward. 

The stallion leapt over the heads of the vampires, their claws and weapons striking upwards. The horse whinnied in pain, it's stomach being torn open by the attack. Lenneth was already forward leaping up out of the saddle, only to find herself surrounded by a circle of vampires upon landing. But she barely took notice of them, her eyes registering a keenly felt and stricken horror at the sight of the large vampire who stood with his back to her.

"Brahms!" Lenneth snarled, and stabbed her sword behind her. A vampire was impaled, Lenneth giving her sword a vicious twist as she continued to glare at Brahms. He was holding onto something, a person by the looks of it. Though all Lenneth could currently see was a pale skinned arm that hung limply at it’s side. Brahms was hunched over the form, and from the sounds that she could hear, Lenneth knew that the vampire Lord was in the midst of feeding.

Stomach turning, she pulled her sword free, only to have to slam it into the next vampire. And then the undead King was turning towards her, Lenneth sure all the color had just fled from her face. "Oh, good Gods, no!" She whispered, staring at the young woman in the vampire lord's arms. 

Long, blonde hair that had come free of it's ribbon, with strands of it clinging wetly to her neck. The hair couldn’t quite hide the puncture marks there, not the marks and not the blood that was continuing to well out. "Silmeria..." Lenneth murmured, pointing her bloodied sword at the vampire lord. "How dare you!!" 

"Keep her occupied." Brahms' voice was a low rumble that moved the vampire throng into action. The other two Valkyries were fighting the vampires outside the circle, leaving Lenneth to face a dozen on her own. She fought like a woman possessed, her energy renewed. Lenneth’s only thought was all that the woman knew, the idea that she had to get Silmeria back from Brahms, and that she couldn't allow him to defile her sister any further. But the vampires might as well have been a hundred, all of them teleporting about her, striking fast and furious. It further enraged Lenneth, the vampires not trying to kill her, instead just working to keep her from their master and his prize.

She could hear the sound of another’s feeding, as well as the screams. Gwendolyn was crying out in pain, the other two Valkyries' fight not going well at all. Lenneth could do nothing to aid her two comrades, still trying so desperately to reach Silmeria. Occasionally she managed to kill a vampire that lingered too long between teleportations, but ultimately they were doing nothing save to tire Lenneth out.

"You're too late battle maiden!" A vampire heralded the sudden sounds of the group's laughter filling the circle. The vampires all seemed to back away from her, allowing Lenneth her first real sight of Brahms and the unconscious Silmeria in a while. Blood was welling up on a cut on Brahm's chest, and Lenneth nearly vomited when she saw Silmeria's lips were painted crimson from it.

"Oh Gods no..." Lenneth whispered, the woman’s free hand coming up to press a fist against her mouth. Brahms had done more than defiled her sister, he had turned her into one of his own kind. This was beyond anything Lenneth could have imagined, a blasphemy of the worst kind. 

Brahms was staring at her, his face unsmiling. He wasn't gloating of his victory, not yet at least, but the vampire king also wasn't repentant of what he had done. Lenneth's mind was reeling, all she could think was that she had to get Silmeria back, one way or another. To save her from becoming one of the monsters they had fought against for centuries. Even if to save her ultimately meant taking her sister's own life.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, Brahms was handing the unconscious Silmeria to one of the other vampires for safe keeping. Before the act was completed, Lenneth was screaming out a challenge, rushing towards Brahms. She barely registered that the other vampires weren't trying to stop her, nor did she noticed the way Brahms had slipped into a defensive stance. All she could focus on was killing the vampire king, and taking back her sister. 

Her sword went straight for Brahms’ heart, Lenneth noting he bore no weapon other than his deadly claws and sharp fangs. She didn't expect such an easy victory though, not with a vampire as strong and as physically powerful as Brahms was supposed to be. He proved his strength by stopping her sword with just his bare hands, catching the flat of the blade in between his palms.

Lenneth gritted her teeth, and fought to pull her sword free. The vampire Lord did a twist with his hands, blade nearly being pulled out of Lenneth's grip. She quickly tightened her hold on her sword's hilt, even as she aimed a knee for right between Brahms' legs. He might have been an undead monster, but there was more than enough feeling down below, the vampire howling in rage. He followed up that howl not by hunching over in pain, but by back handing Lenneth across the face.

She thought she saw stars, actually turning from the force of his blow. She quickly swung out with her sword, even though she had yet to recover. His arm came up, letting the sword rebound off his wrist gauntlets. Lenneth quickly slashed upwards, trying to catch him in the face, but Brahms let himself fall backwards to avoid her sword.

"Undead fiend!" She hissed, advancing towards him. "Abominable monster! Give me back my sister!"

"Your sister is lost to you Valkyrie." Brahms retorted. "Now and forever more."

"Never!" Lenneth screamed, though she knew his words to be true. For even if she somehow killed Brahms, and fought her way past all the vampires, what fate was left to Silmeria now, except to die by Lenneth's sword? That was the only choice left to her, the one and only mercy, and it was all to save Silmeria from becoming the monster that Brahms wanted her to be. "You won't get to enjoy this victory. I'll make sure you are nothing more than a stain on my sword before this hour is up!"

"You are no match for me, child." Brahms taunted her. "Not now, not even if you live a thousand years more!"

"I won't know unless I try!" Lenneth retorted, fighting not to give in to the hopelessness of the situation. She began thrusting her sword forward again and again, aiming for any and all vulnerable points on the vampire. The undead king moved even faster than any of the elder vampires she had ever faced before, always blocking her sword's strikes, and even getting in a few punches in on her. They hit her in the stomach, and in the arms, and even once a blow to the face. It stunned her, and made her arm too weak to hold up her sword, though Lenneth kept on fighting, even as her arm came close to breaking under Brahms' assault. 

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of feeding. Her Valkyrie comrades had fallen prey to the vampires. It only increased Lenneth's upset, and she made a desperate swing for Brahms' thick neck. He blocked that with such force, that she was knocked back, her arm stunned from the fingers to her shoulder. And still she tried to stab her sword one last time, only to have the vampire sweep out her feet from under her with a kick.

With a startled cry, Lenneth hit the dirt, Brahms landing on top of her. She glared up at him, his claws at her throat, gripping the soft and tender flesh there. All it would take was him to pull, and her throat would be ripped free of her flesh. Lenneth felt despair settle in her all the more strongly, knowing she had failed her sister for the last time.

"Get it over with then!" Lenneth hissed at Brahms, her fingers having gone limp around her sword. Someone snatched it away from her, but Lenneth didn't take her eyes off the undead king's face.

She tensed up, waiting for the killing blow but Brahms was staring down at her with a considering look. "You're Silmeria's sister, aren't you?" He then asked, and Lenneth was shocked that he knew even that much. "It would upset her if I killed you…"

"Killing me will be the least of your problems if my sister rises as one of the undead!" Lenneth snapped, and was enraged to see a faint smirk on his lips.

"She will rise, and after a time, Silmeria will come to accept what has happened to her. It is inevitable…"

"You're mad if you think my sister can ever accept being made into one of your creatures!" Lenneth retorted. "Lord Odin will not stand for this indignity! He will not allow you to get away with this!"

"He will have no choice!" roared Brahms. "Tell your King I have taken your sister as my wife." Lenneth's eyes went wide with astonishment, the woman’s heart beating faster in her chest. "He'll have to find someone else to marry the elf." His smirk became more pronounced, Brahms mocking. "You think I did not know Odin's plans for her? I knew everything! Nothing gets past my spies!"

"You.…"

"I waited a long time for your sister to be in a prime position to be vulnerable. You have my gratitude for delivering her to me. But that gratitude can only get you so far." He slowly released his hold on Lenneth, getting up off her. "Return to Asgard. Tell Odin of everything that has happened." Lenneth started to glance in the direction of the vampire who had taken her sword, but Brahms chuckled. "We will not be returning your sword to you."

It was a feint on Lenneth's part, the Valkyrie suddenly lunging to her feet. In the process, she palmed the dagger that was hidden under her armor’s long pleated skirt, pulling it free of the leather sheathe strapped to her thigh. She worked to stab it into the smirking vampire Lord, but Brahms was not caught unaware. The last thing she saw, was his fist coming towards her face, and then all went black, Lenneth being forced unconscious.

 

To Be Continued.…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated with a few hundred new words on 12/13/2017
> 
> Michelle


	3. Three

Nearly two days would past. Two long and grueling days, with the storm that the clouds had been threatening the forest with, finally breaking free. With a great sky rending crack, the waters would then fall. It was cold and it was brutal, the rain a torrential down pour that soaked through to just about everything. Even the dress that she wore underneath her armor, the water seeping in through the openings about her neck and her shoulders. Lenneth was thoroughly soaked within minutes, frozen and absolutely miserable though the rain could not sour her mood any further. Not when she knew that her sister Silmeria was lost to her, lost to them all.

It was almost enough to make Lenneth weep, with tears that would be born of the rage and the helplessness that she had felt, the fear that she still harbored for her sister's soul. Sometimes Lenneth would wonder if she wasn't already crying, her cheeks wet not just from the rain but with her anguished tears. She’d never know for sure, anymore then she would make a move towards wiping her face dry, always instead sitting rigid in the saddle of her horse, staring straight on ahead.

Her grief, her fear, even her anger. They all worked together to make progress difficult. Lenneth felt it in her every act, the woman second guessing herself constantly. It was a war of what she should do, versus her irrational wants. How the Valkyrie tortured herself as she fought to drive her horse forward. To bring to an end her long travels was pure agony when every fiber of her being urged Lenneth to turn back. Something inside her screamed at Lenneth. Screamed at her to go off in hot pursuit of the vampires and the sister that they had stolen from her. 

She wasn’t as far gone as that. Not even Lenneth’s grief could blind her to the harsh truth of the matter. The utter futility of such a move. Lenneth knew that she needed to get reinforcements, dozens upon dozens of Valkyrie maidens and a legion of their einherjar. Only then might the divine forces stand a chance, only then might they be able to hold off the vampires long enough for Lenneth to retrieve her sister. 

The Valkyrie maiden tried not to think on what she would have to do once Silmeria was back under her care, Lenneth feeling a shiver go through her. Silmeria was no doubt transformed after tasting Brahm's blood, the young woman neither a Valkyrie Goddess nor the mortal female that Odin’s will would have had her remain as. Instead Silmeria would now be Brahms’ undead bride, a vampire whose very existence offered Lenenth only a limited window of chance to save her sister’s soul. There was no helping the existence that she had become, Silmeria lost to her, to them all. The slim chance for her immortal soul however still existed, still gave Lenneth some twisted form of hope to cling to. For she knew that long before Silmeria killed and drank of another creature's blood, the young woman would have to die a second time. To let otherwise happen, would leave Silmeria damned for sure, the consumed blood of her victim the catalyst for untold blasphemous evil. The worst was that Lenneth wasn't sure how much time she had left. How long before her sister, Silmeria, could no longer hold out against the unnatural thirst that all vampires’ harbored within them?

Time and grief working against them both, it was a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that Lenneth would have to hurry to save her sister, Silmeria, from eternal damnation through the very act of ending her life. There would be no no joy in the killing of Silmeria, although some part of Lenneth’s soul would find solace if the act prevented her sister from being forced to spend an eternity killing. That unquenchable thirst would drive her to it, the blood of the inhabitants of the nine realms needed for the woman’s very survival. The only possible way that this could be made any worse, was the idea of Silmeria spending an eternity blaspheming at Brahms’ side.

Lenneth hoped that Silmeria would be able to fight him, and to resist the temptations that Brahms and that of the blood that would call to her now. The Valkyrie nearly let out a sigh then, lips tightly pursed together as the woman’s hands gripped a harsher rein on that of the horse she had borrowed. This mare was nothing like the stallion that Lenneth was used to riding, being instead a dappled gray and brown mare that lacked the sturdy strength of the war horses that the Valkyries normally rode. But of the fifteen horses that had been brought as part of Silmeria's escort, none had survived. Not the four stallions of the Valkyries, not the two mares that had dragged Silmeria's carriage forward. And certainly not that of the mixed breeds the einherjar had rode upon.

What had happened in the forest clearing had been a brutal slaughter, a calculated carnage that left no one from Asgard alive, not even their animals. No one alive that is, save for Lenneth herself, a fact that surprised as much as astounded the Goddess. She still didn't understand why Brahms would have spared her life any more then she could make herself believe that he cared so much about Silmeria as to show a mercy to Lenneth. It was a cruel kind of mercy though, Lenneth fighting not to growl under her breath, as she remembered neither wanting nor asking for it.

It wasn’t the only thing that she could remember. Lenneth could remember waking up, with more than half the day having passed. The sky by then had darkened even further, night having come at last. Besides her had knelt a woman. Lenneth had immediately known her to be an elf, the green colored hair and the pointed ears of their kind an instant give away. The elf whose name she had learned to be Rosselier, had been crouching down besides her, helping to turn Lenneth onto her back to check over the Valkyrie for any wounds. That Lenneth had sustained none had amazed and astounded everyone. It was an especially miraculous outcome when one took in to account the defiled states of the two other Valkyries left dead on the grassy floor of the forest.

 

Lenneth sincerely wished that she could have remained for a proper burial for the Valkyries Gwendolyn and Jacquelyn, but there had simply been no time. She had had to entrust their bodies to the elves, gaining their promise to not only bury the Valkyries, but to find and do the same to the remains of their destroyed entourage. Not all of the elves would choose to remain behind, though enough remained to oversee and tend to the task that she had asked of them. Instead a small number of the elves had insisted on accompanying Lenneth, and try as she had, the Valkyrie had not been able to think of a reason as to why she’d be able o refuse them this. 

Not when it was their horse she had borrowed, as well as fresh supplies, and the new sword that was sheathed in a scabbard at her side. Rosselier would be among the elves that had insisted on traveling with Lenneth, and it was Rosselier whose healing powers had tended to Lenneth, and helped eased the Valkyrie Goddes to regain consciousness a lot sooner than she would have. The elf’s magic was truly beneficial, and it was for that reason first that Rosselier was a valuable asset to have around. She may not have been a warrior, but as a healer, the elf was a literal life saver.

It was because of Rosselier's magic that Lenneth wasn't in any physical pain. The same couldn’t be said for the pain of her heart, the Valkyrie caught in a maelstrom of emotional agony. Her heart’s turmoul drove her sense of urgency, the doubts that Lenneth second guessed herself with, plaguing her every step of the way. The others pretended not to notice, the elves that had accompanied Lenneth on her return journey to Asgard, numbering as ten in all. They were a mix of male and feamle warrios, many of whom had large oak carved bows strapped to their backs. It was the chosen weapon of their kind, the elves ready to unleash death and devastation with their arrows. But there was one who differed, who stood out just as much as the healer Rosselier. 

This elf was a man, a warrior bred and born true. He carried a broadsword, the bladed weapon nearly the size of the length of the elf’s body. The warrior positively rippled with muscle upon muscle, his body honed to the impressive size needed to effectively use such a large blade. Thus the man rode upon a large war stallion, the only kind of horse that would have been able to bear the weight of such a giant of an elf.

He had been the second elf for Lenneth to have noticed upon awakening to the worried face of Rosselier. He hadn't been anywhere as concerned as the female elf had been, more annoyed than anything over the situation that Lenneth had barely survived through. That annoyance had turned to outrage when Lenneth had confirmed the fate that had befallen Silmeria. The elves had quickly moved into action, having come prepared for the worse. When Silmeria and her escort had not arrived at the Elven village, a good twenty-five elves had been dispatched. The hope had been that the reason behind the delay had simply been that of the party somehow getting lost. But that hope had been dashed when they had come upon the downed valkyries, Gwendolyn and Jacquelyn's bodies bearing multiple bite marks and savage tears. The vampires had feasted upon them, draining them dry of every drop of blood. Lenneth had been the only one to remain untouched, the only mark from her encounter, that of the bruise on her face from Brahms’ fist.

The elves had been naturally horrified by the massacre, and by the news that the bride for their Lord had been stolen out from under them. They too had turned eager, ready to report to King Odin about just what had happened. There had also been an undercurrent of worry, the elves fearing that the alliance might fall apart with Silmeria having been stolen away. Privately though, Lenneth thoughts were certain that Odin would merely choose to replace Silmeria with some other fallen Valkyrie. It didn’t mean that Lenneth couldn’t understand any less the fears of the elves. After all, the massacre had occurred in their forest, right under their noses. Odin might choose to be insulted by that fact, though there was really little the elves could have done against such an overwhelming number of vampires.

If anything, such an act would bind the elves and the Asgardians together all the more, uniting them against their common foe. This violent act of the vampires might prove more binding than even Silmeria and Rufus' marriage could have been. Especially with the elves ready to lend aid against the vampires to right the wrong done to all involved.

Even with the elves by her side, Lenneth wasn't looking forward to her return to Valhalla. And all because of the colossal shame that would be attached to her name. Bad enough to be defeated by the undead King, to be spared death at his hands, but to lose three of her own kind to his vampires? To return with the news that Silmeria hadn’t been killed, but made into the very fiend that they had fought against for all these centuries? It was unthinkable, and Lenneth couldn't begin to imagine the sort of punishment that Odin would give to her.

Yet Lenneth refused to cower in her seat, refused to delay the journey over the fear of what Odin would say and do. Silmeria needed to be recovered and quickly, the Valkyries and einherjar of Asgard needed to be made ready for that battle. It would surely be a fight unlike any other they had ever fought, a Valkyrie's soul on the line. It was these thoughts that drove Lenneth to ride her steed faster, a quick gallop that allowed her pull ahead of the elves.

Surprised shouts followed after her, the elves scrambling to keep up with her as their horses made their way across the rickety bridge that covered the gap between canyons. Somewhere ahead of the canyons was a path which led down into the plains of Idavoll. It was there that much of the fighting continued to take place, the plains extending for miles in every direction, including the stretch of land that led to Odin's castle.

It would take at least another thirty minutes to reach the edge of the plains, and that was with working the horses hard. The poor beasts were unused to such a fast pace, breathing heavily by the time Lenneth began steering her mare off of the path. The elves were not far behind her, though they had ceased their shouts. They knew better than to call attention to themselves with unneeded noise, and even their horses seemed to cease their protesting whinnies as the sound of the battles grew in volume.

The muscled elf drew up besides Lenneth's horse, the man already reaching for the sword strapped to his back. He seemed to be the one in charge of this group of elves, flashing hand signals that had the other elves drawing their bows. Rosselier was lost amidst the group, two elves sticking near to protect the healer from danger. The others were already notching arrows against their bow's strings, preparing to unleash them at the first sign of the enemy.

"We move quickly but carefully." Lenneth announced, gaining a nod from the elf besides her. "There is still some time before dawn breaks."

"Our chances for success will be better if we wait until after the sun rises." Noted the closest female elf to her. "We won't have to contend with the vampires, just the creatures that are theirs to command."

"It's your decision to make, Lady Valkyrie." Noted the sword carrying elf who was waiting besides her. "We will follow whatever you decide."

There was no hesitation in Lenneth now. Not when she was so close to Valhalla. Not when, she knew that Odin had to be informed at once what had gone down in the Forest of Spirits. But more than that, Silmeria's soul was depending on Lenneth. To wait was to risk eternal damnation for the very sister she so loved,

"To battle we go!" To their credit, not one of the elves grumbled a complaint, following after Lenneth and her horse. She had already had her sword drawn and ever at the ready when she burst past the canyon's wall and onto the grassy plains that made up Idavoll.

The grass was tall stacks of gold that brushed the sides of the horse's barrel shaped body. Perfect cover for the ghouls that lay in wait for any who ventured this far out of the main fighting. With hellish screams, they shambled forward, trying to bury their poison tip claws into her horse's skin. This mare wasn't shielded like her stallion would have been, lacking the war horse's body armor. It left Lenneth busy, her sword swinging in constant defense of her steed, lopping off the fingers and the hands that came too close to her and the mare. 

From behind her came the whizzing sound of arrows cutting through the night air. The elves were working to quickly reload their bows, the archers staying well away from the ghouls. The elves’ arrows quickly impaled the ghouls in the eyes and into their open mouths, leaving them distracted enough for Lenneth to come and behead each of them. The elf with the sword was making similar work of the ghouls on his side, heads falling to be lost in the grass and trampled on by both the horses and the undead’s feet.

Rosselier's healing magics came into play in a different way. Instead of tending to wounds, that magic became a weapon focused upon a group of zombies that lurched among the stalks. Those rotten, shambling corpses were no match for a bit of cure magic heaped upon them, the creatures dying with the loudest of pained shrieks. Those shrieks drew attention from other undead, the monsters hurrying towards the group of twelve. Lenneth's sword was already covered in a blood that was mixed with gore and a black ichor. Even poison from the ghouls coated her blade, though it had no ill effect on the undead that she was currently battling.

The rain continued to fall, pelting them all mercilessly and without end. It was turning the dirt the grass grew in to mud, making the horses' footing unstable. The mud didn't seem to affect the ghouls, they continued to charge them, and only the beheadings could stop the creatures from their assaults. A scream from behind let Lenneth know that one of the elves had been pulled off of his horse. The poor soul had wandered to close to a group of ghouls, and had not had the chance to fire off his arrows before the monsters had caught him.

Lenneth forced herself not to feel pity for the dead elf, knowing that any such emotion could cause her to become distracted and then suffer a similar fate. Her sword arm continued to move, and it was the blessing of her divine state that she didn't grow tired from the constant use. Heads continued to fly about, Lenneth and the Elven swordsman dispatching all of the ghouls that came within reach.

In the near distance she could see the light of torches, Asgardians using the flames to better see that which with they fought. The undead had no need of the light, their vision such that they could see near perfectly in the dark. But the torches gave her hope, Lenneth knowing their chances would improve if they could reach the other combatants before the undead overwhelmed them here. 

"Head towards the light!" shouted Lenneth, slicing off the wing of small bat like creature. It's saliva was like acid, quick to burn through anything be it living or dead. It was the only reason Lenneth even bothered with such an annoying but otherwise seemingly harmless creature. 

Voices rose up behind her, the elves calling out confirmation. Arrows continued to whiz past her, slamming into the ghouls long enough to stun and delay them. She quickly finished off the ghouls with her sword, letting her horse trample on the bodies. Rosselier was chanting a healing spell, refreshing their horses' stamina to allow them the extra push needed to continue on.

A horse ran past Lenneth, the stallion whinnying in fear now that it's rider had been knocked off it's back. Some of the ghouls would converge on the poor beast, and the sounds of flesh being torn could be heard, the monsters eating the horse alive. Arrows would fly in the horse's direction, one of the elves attempting to put the stallion out of it's misery.

The fight continued, much of the same actions repeating. There was hardly any time to pause, the elves having sheathes of extra arrows fastened to every available inch of their horse's saddle. It almost seemed like they could go on indefinitely, but Lenneth knew that sooner or later they would run out of arrows. But the lights of the torches were reaching closer, enough that Lenneth could make out the battling figure of another Valkyrie.

"We're almost there!" A female elf cried out, sounding relieved.

"Somajdra, don't celebrate just yet!" admonished another elf. 

"He's right, anything could still happen." The sword carrying elf grunted as his swing took off the heads of two ghouls simultaneously. Fortunately for her side, nothing befell Lenneth or any of the remaining elves, the group charging into the torch lit area of the battlefield. Some of the ghouls gave chase, but the zombies shied away from the light. They quickly disappeared back into the grass, waiting to ambush any one foolish enough to stray away from the lights’s flame.

The Valkyrie that was fighting with a group of einherjar was finally close enough as to look familiar. Long blonde hair that held streaks of blood from her enemies in it, shifted wildly about as the woman turned. It was enough so that Lenneth caught sight of her face, a name gasping out of her. "Alicia!"

The Valkyrie Alicia impaled a vampire on her sword's forward thrust, then did her own gasp, one of surprise. "Lenneth?" She seemed to blink in disbelief, even as she let her sword clang with another vampire's blade. "Why are you here!? Where is..." She trailed off, not wanting to alert the vampires to what Lenneth's true mission had actually been.

"He's taken her!" Lenneth said, dispatching a vampire with her own sword. The Elven archers were firing one arrow after another, though the vampires teleported too fast to be pierced by them. "Brahms has Silmeria!"

"No!" That wasn't only Alicia, but the einherjar who cried out in protest. They began to fight even more viciously, as though taking out their anger on the fiends before them.

"I must speak with Odin at once." Lenneth was drawing closer to Alicia, who nodded her agreement.

"Of course." She continued to fight, but her voice was shouting out an order. "Clear a path for the Valkyrie Lenneth and her escort! Let everyone know of her need, and the reason behind it!" 

Already voices were echoing out the orders, along with the news that Silmeria had been taken by Brahms. The word would travel all along the battlefield, both the Asgardians and the Undead learning of the vampire's victory. The news would even reach the ears of Lenneth's older sister Hrist, the black haired Valkyrie then beginning her own fight to reach Odin's castle as quickly as she possibly could.

Little by little, the einherjar and the Valkyries opened a path for Lenneth and the elves to travel through. By the time that they had reached Odin's castle, the sun was cresting over the canyons. The vampires quickly teleported to their hiding holes, leaving only the ghouls and other sun tolerant undead behind to continue to do battle. Without the vampires to help them, the remaining undead would be easy work for a determined Valkyrie and her companions. 

Finally reaching the castle grounds, there was no time for Lenneth to rest. Her horse was just as exhausted as she, it’s steps all a stumble, and it’s skin worked to a fine and wet lather. A Valkyrie was there to greet Lenneth and the elves, and the einherjar that had accompanied her were quick to tend to the thirsty and tired horses that the group had rode upon. It was there that they would go their seperate ways, the horses to rest In the stables, while the elves would be offered rooms and refreshment, along with new quivers of arrows to replace the ones they had spent on the battle field.

Lenneth however, had no opportunity for such things. Not did she have much care for herself, for anyhting save her sister Silmeria. The Valkyrie rushed up the cliff side path, so fast and fleet of foot that she might as well have been the very wind itself personified. Odin's castle, Valhalla, was in sight, armor suited einherjar already pulling open the great doors long before the Valkyrie had reached them. She didn't even stop, save to nod a brief thanks to the einerhjar, rushing past them and startled Asgardians who had not yet gotten word of her return.

As she neared the great throne room, Lenneth slowed to a more respectable walk. She caught sight of herself in the reflective bronze of the walls, seeing how covered in blood and gore she actually was. She had hardly had the time to clean up and make herself presentable before speaking with Odin, caring little as towards what he might have had to say about her getting blood and worse on his expensive carpets.

There were more soldiers standing guard to the doors that led into the throne room. These warriors hesitated upon seeing Lenneth's disheveled state. But she fixed them with her best glare, and with a commanding voice ordered them to admit her into the throne room. The guards would exchange then doubtful glances, before squaring their shoulders in defeat. As soon as the doors were open, Lenneth swept by the throne room’s guardians, her head raised up high as she prepared to finally meet with Lord Odin.

Freya was already present, the green clad Goddess standing on the throne's dais with Lord Odin. It was the Goddess who first acknowledge Lenneth, eyes going wide as she watched her approach the throne. "Lenneth! What has happened? Why exactly are you here?!" 

Lenneth reached the foot of the dais' steps, and then dropped to one knee. Head bowed in respect, she kept her eyes lowered as she talked. "There are many regretful things I must tell you, my Lord and my Lady."

"What is it Lenneth?" Odin asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Why are you here and not with your sister, Silmeria?"

Lenneth exhaled slowly, that deep breath buying her a few precious seconds of delay. "I won't beat around the truth. I'll tell you straight out that Silmeria has been taken. Lord Brahms knew of our plans, and laid in wait for my sister." Freya had then gasped out a horrified no, and something like a growl would escape Odin’s throat. "The entire escort party was slaughtered, including the Valkyries that had accompanied my sister and I."

Odin gave no reply, not a single word or gesture that would let Lenneth know when she could finally stand. There was no other course by to remain in that respectful kneel, with her her eyes lowered to the floor. "There's more…"

"More?!" exclaimed Freya. "I shudder to think what else there could be!!"

"Brahms...he...he's fed on Silmeria." Lenneth fought not to grimace at the memory that those words had conjured. "But what's worse, he forced her to drink of him. He's made her into one of them...said she was to be his bride..." 

Not a sound was heard with those words spoken, the quiet lasting long enough that Lenneth nearly risked looking upwards. She tried not to fidget in place, waiting for something, anyone to break that stunned silence. 

"Lenneth....this is terrible news that you bring me." Odin said at last. She nodded quickly in response. "I don't know yet what will be the repercussions of Brahms' actions. Never has a Valkyrie been turned into a vampire before. I know not what chaos this will cause, only that this is an unforgivable act."

"Yes." Agreed Lenneth. "We have to work fast, my Lord. We have to move to retrieve Silmeria, to save her soul before she feeds for the first time. I am prepared to go and lead the einherjar to the vampire's castle...just give me your permission and I will do this at once."

More silence, Odin letting out a heavy breath. "I don't think this is a task that is suitable for you." 

"My Lord?"

"Tell me, my Valkryie. What happened? Why did the vampire lord allow you to survive what was other wise a massacre?" Odin question. 

Lenneth felt humiliation burn in her cheeks, the Valkyrie glad that her head was still lowered. "He let me go."

"Let you go?" Freya sounded disbelieving of this. 

"It was meant to curry and be a favor to my sister Silmeria." Lenneth quickly explained. "He said it would upset her if he allowed me to be killed."

"Really now...how...odd." She heard the rustle of fabric, Odin rising from his seat. "And you what? Just turned tail and ran?"

Lenneth gasped at that, so indignant and upset that she looked up at the approaching God without receiving his permission. "I would never abandon my sister to the likes of him!" She hissed, not caring if her tone was disrespectful. "I fought Brahms. Fought him in an attempt to gain back my sister, even knowing the only comfort I could give her then was to end her life! It was not through any act of mine that prevented me from following after the vampire lord and his undead minions." 

"Are you saying he rendered you incapable of following him?" demanded Odin. 

"Yes." Lenneth nodded. "He knocked me out with a mighty blow. I might still be unconscious if not for the elf, Rosselier's healing magics." She fixed Odin with an earnest look. "I wanted to go after him, but knew I was ill equipped on my own. I needed reinforcements...the warriors and the supplies needed to make the long journey to the vampire's castle. I am here to ask you for those things."

"You expect me to entrust more Valkyries and einjerjar to you?" She nodded again at that. "After you allowed the last group under your guidance to be so ruthlessly slaughtered?!" Lenneth paled at Odin's words, her mouth dropping open.

"I...I did not…"

"How many of my Valkyrie did you take with you?" He demanded. "How many died, dined upon by the vampires? Vampires who even now must be flush with their divine blood, and fight on the battlefield, taking more lives?!"

"It was three....Lenneth was accompanied by three Valkyrie." Freya murmured, and Odin's glare became more pronounced.

"Three!? Three Valkyries lost to us on what was to be a relatively easy transport mission."

"With all due respect my Lord, it was never considered an easy mission. My sister Hrist put much on the line to distract the undead from Silmeria's escort." Lenneth retorted. "If not for Brahms' spy network, we might never have gotten into an ambush…"

"I do not want your excuses, nor your what ifs...." Odin grumbled. "You come before me with facts only, and that fact is that your entourage was lost, Silmeria taken and turned into one of those abominations! Valkyrie blood was spilled, those monsters fed upon them! This incident was an unmitigated disaster of the worst kind, and you were unable to do anything to stop it!"

"Lord Odin, might you be placing too much blame onto Lenneth?" Freya asked. "I'm sure that she did all she could do given the situation…"

"And her best was not enough!" roared Odin. Lenneth and Freya both seemed to flinch from his shout, Odin staring down at the Valkyrie. "I can forgive the loss of the einherjar, but with what has happened to the other Valkyries and Silmeria? That is unforgivable!" 

"My Lord...I will accept whatever punishment you deem fitting for one such as me." Lenneth told him, allowing her face to be blank of all her emotions.

"And punish you I shall." Odin told her, then turned to Freya. "Go. Fetch me my potions." 

"Potions?!" Freya gasped, and shook her head. "Isn't that too extreme a punishment for this?"

"Lenneth failed me." Odin hissed. "But not just me, but her sister and the three Valkyries under her lead." Lenneth flinched at his words, but knew them to be true. "An example must be made of her. To show what will happen to any other Valkyrie who would fail me in such a manner. Now go Freya, do what I command of you or suffer the same fate.”

"Yes Lord Odin." Freya's shoulders sagged, and she gave Lenneth an apologetic look before quickly eaving the room.

"My Lord...if I may..." Lenneth risked speaking to him once more. "What exactly is my punishment to be?"

A grim smile was given her, Lenneth feeling chilled to see it. "What is the fate of all Valkyries who must be retired from the battlefield?" Her eyes widened, Lenneth gasping out a no. She almost rose off her feet in protest, and only Odin's hand suddenly on her shoulder kept her kneeling. "Yes, Lenneth, you will be Valkyrie no more. You will undergo the customary ritual…"

"N....no...." The floor felt like it had dropped out from beneath her, Lenneth shaking her head no.

"Yes. You will enter the enchanted sleep." Odin continued, his hand still pressing down on her shoulder. "You'll be doomed to sleep until kissed awake. And when you awaken, your heart will belong to a stranger."

"I can still fight..." Lenneth began. It was all steel resolve that voiced in her tone, no undercurrents of that inwards desperation or begging to be found. "If you just give me one more chance.…"

"I do not tolerate failure more than once in my Valkyries." Odin said coldly, not looking up as Freya ventured back into the room. Lenneth didn't turn to watch her approach. didn’t take note of the vial of glowing pink potion in the golden haired Goddess’ hands. Instead Lenneth continued to stare up at Odin, a vivid defiance dawning in the Valkyrie’s eyes. "You will devote your life to this stranger that you will love. You will bear his children and grow old with him."

"You can force this sleep on me, but you cannot force me to love him." Warned Lenneth. 

"You are strong willed." Noted Odin. "Maybe even strong enough to fight the effects of the potion. It will be interesting either way."

"My Lord..." Freya stepped into Lenneth's view, the hated pink potion still clutched in her grasp.

"Drink this..." Odin took the potion from Freya's hand, and brought it before Lenneth's lips. She could smell it's sickly sweet scent, and it made her want to gag. "Do not defy me on this Lenneth…"

"I do not seek to defy you, but the potions effects!" Lenneth retorted to Odin's amusement. "Just...just promise me one thing!" Odin was already trying to tilt the potion into her mouth, Lenneth sputtering as she spoke. "Save my sister. Rescue her from the fate that Brahms has cast her into." She was choking on the liquid, the potion burning her throat, and working quickly to weave it’s hated magic upon her. Lenneth's eyes were already drooping closed, and the woman swore that she could hear a voice call out from behind her. It sounded a lot like her elder sister, Hrist, but Lenneth found she completely lacked the strength to turn and see for sure.

She went out with not a scream but a whimper, collapsing to the floor still clad in her blood splattered armor. All Lenneth could think as she struggled to remain conscious was that the task of rescuing Silmeria’s soul would now have to fall on some other Valkyrie's shoulders.

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued…
> 
> For the record I hate the Odin Lenenth Freya scene...I might try to tinker with it later.
> 
> 9/13/2017: Updated and overhauled. This one was a real fixer upper.
> 
> Michelle


	4. Four

From off the coast of Lassan, from way out into the distance, past what any mortal man can see, an island exists. This plateau of land, surrounded on all sides by a violent and unforgiving sea, is replete with a wild forest that grows out of any man’s control. The thickest of trees stand testament to it’s untamed nature, ancient and tall, stretching out higher than seemed naturally possible. A thick canopy of perpetual green made a roof over this forest, blocking out much of the sun and it’s light. It’s a forest full of shadows, an island nurtured by blood, death and magic. Dark, twisted things grow within it’s confines, and the beasts that roam this land, are among the most deadly and dangerous to be founf in all of the corners of the world. 

It’s a thriving populace of wild nightmares that exist on this island. Beasts---creatures, that serve many a purpose. Chief among them? To play deterrent to ward off any people, any HUMANS, that might seek to trespass on this island. 

This island exists on the whims of a delicate balance, a strict chain of command set in place. Everything from the danger of the wild, the animals that exist as both guardian and a food source, to the monsters that walked this land. The ghouls and the zombies, the chimeras, and the wraiths. All manner of wicked creature, everything from the most insignificant of the undead, to the monsters who pressed them under a firm thumb. 

It was vampires that ruled here, vampires who had sought out and carved this land into a safe haven for their own kind. It was the one, the only, place in all of the nine realms, that was a home for them. A place of belonging, a retreat from the world. This island, this home was their base of operation and the only thing of real value allowed to the vampires. This dark paradise, was always open to them, the vampires welcomed back each and every time they were driven off from elsewhere in Midgard. 

Large as the island was, it still struggled to support the numerous undead that maintained the delicate balance of a savage paradise. Just accounting for the vampires alone, at any odd time, there could and usually were, several hundred vampires in residence. 

These vampires weren’t the uncivilized nightmares that the rest of the nine realm’s people thought them to be They had a home and they had culture, their own ruling systems set into place. Here amongst the tree, in the very heart of the ancient forest, existed their castle. A castle carved of a stone weathered by both age and the elements, and rumoured to be older than time. This impressive and large sight, was more city than anything, a mountain range itself having been brought down, to form the basis of this building.

This millennia old castle was in a constant state of upkeep, the vampires and their servants working, adding to and explanding, often times working to replace the most weathered of stones that had been blasted into ruin by friend and foe alike. With this dedicated vigilance, the lesser undead labored to make sure that the otuside walls of the castle did not give in to the temptation to collapse.

The castle itself was a beautiful if rickety sight to see. The stones, discolored from the rains, were bronze in color. With heaps of moss and vines growing up the sides of the walls, with night flowers budding on the shadow thriving greenery. They reached as high as the third floor of the castle, stopping just short of twirling around to the fifth floor turrets. Between the four corners of the castle towers, the fifth floor opened up onto a roof top courtyard. Many a vampire could be seen up there at any given time of day or night, relaxing in the shade, and holding conversations with one another.

 

And there was no topic as wildly discussed, as that of their King. Of his startling obsession, and the ruthless way in which he had seen to acquiring it. He could hear them, a whole group of vampires up on the roof, holding their own private court, speaking in a hushed whisper that carried easily on the wind down to him. Brahms with his enhance hearing didn’t even have to stain in an attempt to make out the words. He heard clearly every last one, the lot of them speculating wildly on the recent events that had brought their lord back from the battlefield. Listening to them was almost beneath him, but more than that, his eavesdropping was helping to pass the time. 

It might almost have been amusing. But the one thing those whispers were not, was distracting. Nothing was, not when he considered the young woman who currently lay asleep in his bed. Even if his crimson colored eyes hadn’t constantly sought out that of her blanket covered form, Brahms would have been aware of her. Of her light easy breathing, of the slow, lethargic beat of her heart, and the sweet, tantalizing scent of her hair.

He couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t last for more than a few seconds without marveling, or without seeking reassurance that Silmeria was indeed still here with him. It was as though he feared that she would vanish out from right under him, even though the vampire king knew it would take quite the sizable army to tear her from his side. Nor would he ever allow her to flee from him, Brahms determined that she would remain in his keep for all time.

It was a right he felt he had EARNED, what with how difficult an endeavor it had been to bring Silmeria here. The operation had been one that had been fraught with peril from all sides, and that included the threat of his own people. Brahms couldn’t help the anger that surged in his heart, each time he thought about what his own vampires had almost cost him. Even now there was that annoyed growl that he had to fight to keep from voicing, the worst of his rage being suppressed so that the only real sign of it was that of Brahms’ fingers clenching on the sill of the window he stood before.

This rage that filled him was a familiar one, Brahms actually frightened at the thought of how close he had almost come to losing the young Valkyrie completely. He could blame that on the careless actions of his own soldiers, the group of vampires that had been personally dispatched to kidnap the Valkyrie from out of the fighitng that took place on the battlefield that was the plains of Idavoll. While not an entirely easy task to accomplish, it also shouldn’t have proved catastrophic. And yet that is exactly what it had been, that group of accomplish soldiers losing themselves to a blood lust, any semblance of control Brahms had thought to maintain on the situation lost.

It had been an unmitigated disaster. The vampires responsbile laid claim to it all being nothing more than an accident of fate. Actually choosing to blame Silmeria for their loss of control, insisting that the Valkyrie had been too wild and unpredictable, too aggressive in her fighting. Claims had come that she had forced their hand, made them attack and injure her in so great a manner. Brahms could understand a minor injury, one meant to briefly render her incapable of fighting. But what had occurred was far more brutal, the Valkyrie's armor torn open, her blood spilled every which way on the battle field. She had nearly died then and there, and would have if not for the timely intercession of her fellow Asgardians.

Brahms had been beyond livid when he had seen what had happened, and grew even more so when he had learned of how debilitating her injuries had actually been. It should have been no surprise to anyone that he had torn apart several of the vampires responsible for the Valkyrie's near crippled state. Those few that had survived the massacre had been staked, and left to slowly rot to death before the newly risen sun.

His people hadn't understood his upset. After all, what was a few injuries given what Brahms planned to ultimately do to the Valkyrie? They thought he had overreacted to the attack, frowning disapproval and muttering things about how she had made Brahms lose his head. Some part of him wondered if that was actually true, if he wasn't becoming half crazed and obsessed with the wanting of her. But most of all, Brahms wondered how the others all failed to miss the point, the fact that the Valkyrie could have died long before Brahms could have gotten to her. Before he could have gotten the chance to force the change on her, and make her into one of his own kind. That kind of outcome would have been simply unacceptable, and more vampires would have died at Brahms’ hand during the grief stricken rage that would have surely followed Silmeria’s passing.

It hadn’t come to be. She was safe, she was here, and she had been given the eternal kiss. Brahms kept reassuring himself of these through things, his musings never distracting him from keeping his eyes trained on the young woman’s face. Her chest barely moved, the few breaths that Silmeria did take rasping out between unnatural intervals. It was because the former Valkyrie was no longer alive. Not in the strictly traditional sense of the word. To any who might observe her at this moment, Silmeria didn’t so much as sleep, as mimic that stillness of the newly dead. She would continue to remain that way for a few minutes more of time, the sun not yet set on this, the third day since the pair had fed from each other.

Just remembering that feeding was more than enough to make him let out a moan of pleasure, Brahms running his tongue over his top most fangs' tips. A rumble of hunger worked it's way through him, Brahms thirsting for more of her blood, even though it was surely tainted by now. Tainted as a direct result of the transformation that he had forced on her. The blood of a Valkyrie was always a sweetly addictive taste. This woman's had proven even more so, and Brahms had actually had to fight the temptation of it. Because just like those vampires, the ones that Brahms himself had killed, the Lord of the Undead might have drank Silmeria to death, and been left with nothing but the memory of her. The sweet tempting blood that would have warmed his veins, would have been a bitter consolation for the woman he would have lost.

The boost to his abilities had been substantial, and even three days later, Brahms was still flushed with the power the Valkyrie’s blood had given him. By all sense, and by the duty that he owed to his people, Brahms should have been out on the battlefields of the heavens right this very moment, using his empowered strength to put an end to as many of the long lived Asgardians as was possible. 

It was unfortunate, but fighitng was and had been the last thing that Brahms had wanted to do. With thoughts of his prize, with Silmeria within his grasp, Brahms had instead chosen to rush back to the vampire’s island. He had carried the Valkyrie the entire journey there, the woman cradled safe and secured in his strong arms. Trusting no one else to handle the valkyrie in this delicate time, Brahms unable to be put at ease so long as Silmeria was still in the midst of her transformation process.

Brahms could also admit that there was a strong part of him that had simply enjoyed clutching the battle maiden against him, enjoying the way that her frail form had felt in his strong arms. She had felt like she had belonged in his embrace, like she was the key to that which he had been missing all these long years. There was something about this Valkyrie, something that continued to call to him. It made Brahms certain that she would be the one to end the loneliness he had been suffering through as eternity continued to stretch onwards infinitely.

He had lived a long life, just how long even Brahms himself could not recall. The endless years had stretched into forever, time and memories blurring so that even he could not remember it all. He still retained the most important of knowledge, Brahms knowing that the oldest of the vampire race. For that alone did there exist many a myth and story, gossip and theories abounding about him. Some said that Brahms was the source from which the first vampires came from, while others whispered he was as old as Odin if not older. Certainly the struggle between the Asgardians and the undead had lasted for such an eternity, their conflict holding roots that stemmed from before the mortals of Midgard became civilized beings.

The mortals were part of the source of conflict between the Asgardians and the undead. The Gods had never looked fondly on the undead preying upon the race that they had created, the very race that worshipped the Gods and looked to them for guidance still. Just as the undead did not appreciate the Gods interfering with their food source, the mortals able to sustain several different types of undead through either their blood or their flesh.

Both the Gods and the Undead sought to bolster their armies through the mortals, humans being taken to become einherjar for the Asgardians, or alternartively made into some hellish kind of undead creature. It kept the war going, and it would continue for as long as there was mortals to fight with and over. The mortals were a race that should have been considered insignificant, and yet almost everything that had happened, occurred because of them.

Take the young woman in his bed. Brahms knew that somewhere in the distant past, she had had parents. A Goddess who had lost her immortality, and been tied to a mortal man. Both had been warriors and together they had conceived, the child inheriting her mother's immortality and abilities, her father's own strengths. In this particular case, the couple had conceived several times over, creating three daughters who would grow up to be Valkyries. Those eternal battle maidens, who fought so hard for their King, slaying undead, and gathering up mortals to become warriors for Asgard.

The woman in his bed had been responsible for countless deaths among Brahms' armies. Her sword had been stained with the numerous blood of the undead. She should have been an instant enemy to Brahms, and yet something had drawn her to him instead. That first time he had seen her, a mere slip of a girl garbed in indigo colored armor, should have also been the last. It should have been child's play for Brahms to strike her dead. In fact he had move to do just that, his clawed fingers flexing in preparation to tear out her throat. But he refused to attack from behind, waiting for the battle maiden to turn to face him.

That had either been a great mistake on his part, or perhaps his greatest salvation, Brahms catching sight of her eyes. Colored blue, they reminded him of the ocean waters that surrounded his island home, all turbulent with waves of violence. But it wasn't anger that had festered within them, nor did she wear the typical disdain her kind usually bore when dealing with the undead. Instead she had seem tired, a weariness that had nothing to do with any physical exhaustion. It was the same kind of weariness that Brahms himself had known all too well, the Undead King having tired of eternity, and tired of the endless fighting between his kind and Odin's warriors.

Of course that alone wouldn’t be enough to get him to stay his hand, Brahms moving to strike down the Valkyrie. Hard and fast had been his intent, but that brief glimpse of her eyes had distracted him to the point he had actually hesitated. It had slowed down his strike, the Valkyrie having had time to bring her sword forward in a defending strike that nearly sliced off his claws and the fingers that they were attached to.

It should have annoyed him. Instead it had nearly stole a laugh from him, Brahms finding he had been growing excited to fight her. It was not a feeling he had been used to, nor was Brahms accustomed to drawing out a fight, and certainly not for such a flimsy excuse as to hold on to a foreign emotion. But draw it out he had, giving a command that had held back his warriors, Brahms having intended to spar with the battle maiden alone. 

That had surprised her, the briefest flicker of it showing in her eyes. It had made him wonder what she had heard of him, if she had thought him so craven and cowardly as to rely on others to do his fighting for him. But he had never been the type of fighter to overwhelm an opponent with an unfair advantage, and it would have been a sore day in Nifleheim before Brahms himself could not handle one young woman. Even if she was a Valkyrie with eyes that had stirred emotions within him.

There had been fighting all around them, his vampires and her einherjar battling against one another. But that soon came to an end, the two sides having called an unspoken truce to instead watch over the figures of their commanders doing battle. The vampires and einherjar had kept their distance from each other, one eye at all times remaining on their enemies as with the other, they had watched Brahms and the Valkyire fight. The battle maiden had had decades of practice with her sword, but Brahms? Brahms had had centuries on her when it came to combat. That and the difference in strength between them had made them both painfully aware of how unmatched the Valkyrie Goddess was in comparison to the Vampire King.

And yet he hadn't struck a killing blow, more intent on playing with her than anything. Her incensed reaction upon the realization of what he had been doing had amused Brahms, the vampire King thinking it funny when she had demanded he hurry up and finish with her.

"Are you that eager to die?" He had asked her, and something had shown in her eyes. It had been that tiredness again, a resignation that shouldn't have belonged in her expression. It wasn't that she was suicidal, never that, but something which he had not been able to guess at, had made her weary. Of life, or perhaps of the endless battles that the Valkyries must take part in.

Save for that look in her eyes, the Valkyrie hadn't answered him, not with actual words at least. With a challenging scream, she had thrust out her sword, aiming for his heart. It had been a last ditch move, more desperation than anything on her part. Neither she nor Brahms had believed she'd hit him. If anything, it had been an attempt to anger him enough to finish the fight, to quit his game with her. He had still been taken with her eyes, the blue so expressive in that moment. He had just barely managed to catch her sword in his hand, the blade's sharp edges slicing open the palm so that his blood fell to the ground between them.

They had exchanged a long look, the Valkyrie glaring defiance at him. He had simply plucked the sword free of her grip, and thrown it towards his vampires. Without even pausing, he had then swept her feet out from under her, the Valkyrie having landed on her back. He'd land on top of her, Brahms' claws on her throat, his blood dripping onto her. She hadn't look frightened, nor had she closed her eyes to block out the sight of what should have been her death leering down at her. Instead she had held his gaze, the striking look in those eyes having challenged him to do it, to end her tiredness.

Naturally her einherjar had grown alarmed at the sight, their voices rising in a panic. They had known they'd never be able to reach her in time, not before Brahms could have ripped out her throat. A glance over his shoulder would have shown his soldiers moving to attack hers, but he had stayed fixed on her face. "I do not understand you." He had ultimately said, his tone of voice had almost been conversational.

"What is there to understand?" She had asked in return. "We are enemies...it is our duty to fight, to continue to fight until one side is completely wiped out."

"It won't be the undead that dies this day." Brahms had told her. "We are many, and you are but just a handful."

"Others will come to take my place." She had retorted with a sigh. "The fighting will continue....for eternity if need be. It matters not what happens to me...My efforts here, and in the past make little difference in the long run." And that had bothered her, he had read the truth of that plainly off of her honest face. She had wanted to matter, and brahms had been sure that he hadn't been reading more to it than that. This battle maiden had wanted a reason for her existence, a reason beyond the fighting that she was duty bound to do.

At the time he had thought it a pity that she would never find that reason, Brahms having still been intent on taking her throat. She had meant to be just one more Valkyrie for him to drink of, and then a scream had been heard. 

"Silmeria!" 

That scream, the Valkyrie's name, had been followed by an arrow. Brahms had heard it whistling as it had soared towards him, the vampire having been forced to let go of the Valkyrie's throat in order to catch hold of the arrow. A new Valkyrie had arrived, a cold beauty with straight, black hair and a known reputation for being ruthless. That one, that Hrist, had been responsible for an impressive amount of deaths, the woman a vertiable war goddess of near guaranteed victory. Was it her appearance alone, or that impressive battle record, that had seemed to galvanize the blond beneath him, this Silmeria having knocked him off of her.

Someone had thrown a sword to her, the Valkyrie having caught it. She had immediately set about to trying to take his head, Brahms forced to dance back to evade both her strikes and the arrows that flew towards them borh. The tide of battle had been turned, the vampires having had to flee in the advent of the new Valkyrie and her einherjar. He too had had to leave, and yet he had also paused, just long enough to have held Silmeria's gaze. It had been a charged moment that had made him want to linger, a million thoughts coming to life in his head at that time.

It had been one of his Generals that had moved him, the man having hauled Brahms bodily out of the arrows' reach. They had teleported just seconds later, but not before Brahms had shouted out to her. "Silmeria! Live! Live and find your reason!"

The shocked surprise that had blossomed on her face had been worth the arrow that had speared him through the left shoulder. The pain of that blow hadn't been enough to keep him from teleporting, Brahms returning to one of the undead's many camps. The Valkyrie Silmeria had been heavy on his mind, Brahms intrigued with her in a way he had never before been with a woman. And even less so with one that was a known enemy of his! 

He had tried to be subtle in his interest, having played it off as though it had been merely a curiosity about an enemy that he had failed to kill. Brahms had let his advisors believe that he was strictly interested in ending the life of the Valkyrie Silmeria. He had even tried to lie to himself that that was where his true interest had laid. And yet he had been haunted by her eyes, by the expression that the beautiful blue had been colored, a look that had been the same as one Brahms had often worn. 

It would take time, but information WOULD eventually come. Bits of it here and there trickling in as it had proven difficult for his vampires to get close enough to the Valkyries without it ending in death. Brahms would learn that Silmeria had two sisters, one of which had been the black haired Valkyrie who had interrupted his intent to kill the blonde battle maiden. He would also learn that she was closer to her second sister, the two often seen together on the limited downtime that they had been allowed from the battle field. 

A Valkyries' life had proven harder than he had first imagined, their King Odin allowing little if any breaks from the fighting. It wasn't like with Brahms' undead, the groups taking shifts and allowing for enough time between them for each group to suitably rest up. But not the Valkyrie, the battle maidens forced to spend nearly the entirety of their immortal lives out on the battlefield. It was no wonder that Silmeria had seemed tired of it all. She had been out on the battle field as early as the age fourteen, long before her immortality had set in and frozen her at an eternal twenty-two.

That was unusual for a Valkyrie to have been brought into combat at so young an age, but then Silmeria had had two older sisters that she had wanted to emulate. At a time when Silmeria should have been living among the mortals, doing things a young girl should, she had been learning about violence and death first hand, acquiring the discipline and the skills need to kill efficiently. She had been put into more life and death situations than any one that young should have been, and by the time she was of eighteen years, she had several vampires' deaths on her hands. It made Brahms wonder if she had ever gotten to experience anything beyond the battlefield, especially with two older Valkyrie sisters to look up to and idolize.

Of course, in between the bouts of information he had gleaned from his spies, Brahms would take part in the conflict’s combat personally. Sometimes he would actually catch sight of blonde hair peeking out from beneath a feathered helm, thpse long strands gleaming like the sun. Or at least, what he remembered of the sun, Brahms not having witnessed the actual rising of one in several millennia's time. 

It had been Silmeria who he had seen, though always from a distance, the battle maiden having been fighting with the undead. He had never tried to get near to her, always keeping a distance, though it would have been easy enough to teleport to her and resume their fight. But he hadn’t wanted want to end her life, Brahms sure that it was pity that had stayed his hand, the man wanting her to live for the experiences that she had missed out on. 

Truth be known, every sight of her, every bit of knowledge gleaned, had been feeding into an infatuation with her. More information would come to him, Brahms then learning that Silmeria had a lovely singing voice, even if the only songs she had ever sung were that of funeral dirges at the bequest of Odin. Brahms found himself yearning to hear her song for himself, and it was that desire that had led him to do something foolish. He had undertaken a journey, one to the heart of the enemy's land, to the castle stronghold known as Valhalla.

Of course, an ancient magic had been employed to bespell the stones against the vampires' ability to teleport inside the actual castle. But they hadn’t been able ensorcell the land around the building, Brahms teleporting in as close as he had dared. He had gone dressed in form fitting black, to better blend in with the shadows. And from them he had crept, darting from one dark corner to another, evading the guards as he had made his way about the castle.

He would find her inside an enclosed garden that had taken up space within the South Western part of the castle. There had been a large stone fountain in the very center of the flowers, with large spurts of water that cascaded down it's many sides. Silmeria had been with one of her sisters, the one with the platinum colored hair who he had known was the Valkyrie Lenneth. It had been a rare moment of relaxation between the two, both battle maidens having removed their feathered helms. Silmeria had had her hands in Lenneth's hair, a careful concentration showing in her eyes as she had worked to braid up that long mass of platinum.

They had talked quietly to each other, much of their conversation had been discussions about battles, and the tactics that they needed to attempt a win against the undead. They had seemed to be avoiding all talks of the ritual that would have soon taken place on that very evening, that of the funeral procession that had been set to begin in less than an hour's time. It because of that funeral procession that Brahms had snuck into the castle, the man intent on hearing the Valkyrie's song for the departed warriors.

Lenneth and Silmeria had talk a while more, though it had been strange talk for two sisters. But he had been quick to realize that to the Valkyrie, they had no life other than that of the battle. It had been all either one had known, and thus all their topics had been such as to reflect their limited life experience. They had had no mortal ties left, what with their parents having long been dead for centuries. It hadn’t been just their parents, but the people of the village that the sisters had spent their childhoods in. The people and perhaps even the village long gone,and with their passing, went all of the three sister’s ties to the mortal realm of Midgard. 

No friends, no family, and no children of their own, the pair had been as viriginal in nature as any other Valkyrie could be. There had been no lovers, secret or otherwise for them to giggle about. Frankly Brahms hadn’t been able to imagine a battle maiden doing something as girlish as that, especially ones as war hardened as these two had been reputed to be.

A gong had then rang, the two Valkyries having glanced up as startled birds took flight overhead. Silmeria would hand Lenneth her helm, the Valkyrie then carefully placing it over her hair so that not even one strand of it was drawn out of place But when she had moved to leave, she had noticed Silmeria had lingered by the fountain. "Aren't you coming?"

"You go on ahead. I shall follow you soon enough." 

"If you're sure." Had come the reply, the Valkyrie Lenneth then walking out of the gardens to step into the inside of the castle. Silmeria would then continue to sit perch on the fountain's edge, staring off into the distance. Brahms had thought her lost in deep thought, but the truth would turn out to be far different, the woman having suddenly spoken out loud. 

"I know that you are there."

That had startled HIM, Brahms having shifted so suddenly that his back had hit and disturbed a loose stone in the wall behind him. Pebbles had clattered to the floor, and Brahms could have blushed from his clumsiness. He hadn't expected her to have sensed him, for ANY of the Valkyrie to have even been able to know that a vampire was there. Especially now when he had been so determinedly cloaking his energy from them. That Silmeria had, Brahms hadn’t known what to make of it, the thought as surprising as it was pleasing to realize that the woman might indeed be more attuned to him than he had ever dared dream.

"Well? Out with you now!" Silmeria had demanded, her voice having sounded impatient.

He had been more bemused than anything then, Brahms practically having shuffled his feet as he had moved to step around the shadowed corner he had hidden himself before. As the torch light had brought his features into focus, Silmeria had done something shocking. The young woman had gasped, her eyes having grown huge as she had scrambled up out of her seated position. Her hand had already been reaching to draw out her sword, and it had been clear by the loss of her relaxed energy, that it was not Brahms that Silmeria had expected to see.

Even as he had reacted to her movement, Brahms had had the time to wonder just who she had been expecting. Was she about to partake in some secret rendezvous? One that not even her sister Lenneth had knownabout? That thought had made something like jealousy spark in him, irrational as it might have been. Valkyries were almost always virgins, their duty to the Gods and to the war such that they had no time or reason to make way for a lover. And yet Brahms had feared that Silmeria might again prove to be an exception, the vampire king dearly having hoped it had not been a lover but instead some messenger that had to do with the endless war. Either way, if someone had come, regardless of their intentions, Brahms would have killed them then and there.

But for that moment he had had to deal with a shocked Valkyrie, Brahms' lunge having put him in reach of her. His right hand had closed around her wrist, squeezing down around it until Silmeria had been froced to drop her sword. As it had clattered to the ground, his left hand had been going across her mouth, in order to stifle her scream. Brahms had known how he could not allow her to raise the alarm that would alert the people inside the castle to his presence here in Valhalla.

Her blue eyes had narrowed into a glare, Brahms having stared back into them. He had had her restrained, but the vampire hadn't known what he had intended to do with her next. Brahms hadn't expected to actually initiate contact with her that night, and he had been loathe to even consider ending her life then and there. For the first time in a millennia, the great undead king had been rendered speechless, the vampire having practically stuttered as he had tried to think of what he could possibly say to her.

She had taken the initiative for him, her teeth clamping down on the inside of his hand. He had grunted, more in surprise than in pain, and more than a little shocked by her audacity. Not many of the Asgardians would have dared risk being tainted by a vampire's blood, and yet she had risked exactly that all in order to dislodge his hand from her mouth.It had been a failed tactic, Brahms instead having squeezed her wrist harder, his strength such that it stopped just short of cracking the bones there.

"You little minx." He hadn’t been able to help but be amused, watching as the anger had filled her eyes. "If you promise not to scream, I'll uncover your mouth..." The poison filled look she had given Brahms had told him that she wasn't ready to give a vampire such a promise. It had seem he'd have to resort to making threats, and as he had prepared to try and scare her into behaving, she had suddenly bit him a second time!

"Stop that!" He had started to snap and then she had kneed him right between the legs! Many of the realms’ many beings, mortals especially, had long since clung to the belief that the undead, vampires chief of all, were an unfeeling race. Their existence was rumoured to be free of all lust save that of blood. So many had thought that the fiends were incapable of true desires. But the hard truth was that they were wrong, no greater a passion to be found than that of a vampire. Vampires not only lusted for blood, they can and did have sex, all of them well familiar with lust and desire and how to use and manipulate it in others. And just as they could feel it’s pleasure, a vampire could also feel it’s pain, Silmeria’s knee having slammed into a part of Brahms’ anatomy that might have been the most delication.

The pained sensation that the vampire had felt, had gotten Brahms to have loosen his hold on the Valkryie. It had been all the opportunity she had need, Silmeria using it to jerk free of Brahms completely.

 

Surprisingly she hadn't screamed, instead hauling away from him and having lunged for her sword. He had still been gritting his teeth in pain when he had followed at her heels, reaching for the sword's hilt at the same exact time that Silmeria had. Brahms had been just a second too slow, Silmeria twisting the blade, turning it so that it's pointed tip grazed a slash across his chest. He had had to jump back, eyeing her warily as she had followed after him. 

"Calm yourself Valkyrie!"

"Why are you here?!" She had hissed out in retort, never taking her eyes off him. "If you think to slay my King…"

"It is not your King that I seek this night..." It had been an admission that he shouldn't have blurted out, and one Silmeria had looked startled to hear. Interesting enough her face had not turned pale, though her gazed had hardened, the Valkyrie then having thrust her sword forward. Brahms had been forced to spin to the left to avoid being impaled, the Valkyrie having passed along the side of him. Close enough that he could have snagged his claws in her hair, but Brahms had resisted that particular temptation.

"If you think to finish what happened on the battlefield..." She had pivoted about, already seeking to slash her sword at him a third time. "Know I will not go down without a fight."

"I wouldn't expect any less of you Valkyrie." Brahms had retorted. He had noted then that her lips were stained red with his blood. It had been a sensual, provocative sight, Brahms' own fangs having lengthened in response. His voice had come out husky, he hadn’t been able to resist teasing her then. "How did you enjoy the taste of my blood, battle maiden?"

Silmeria had blinked in surprise, then had hastily brought her free hand up to wipe the blood's remains from off her mouth. "I am no vampire to find enjoyment in tasting such a thing…"

"A pity for you. I know many who would die to get a taste of such a powerful drink."

"All who are damned and deranged, no doubt!" She had retorted, and had struck out again. This time when he had side stepped her, Brahms had caught her left arm, cruelly twisting it behind her back. She had grunted but otherwise had not cried out in pain, attempting instead to twist her sword and drive it back behind her and into him. Brahms had had to grab hold of that wrist too, squeezing it until Silmeria had dropped hold of her blade. And then he had twisted the right arm to join the left behind her, Brahms pinning her against his broad chest.

She had trembled in agitation at the position he had held her in, Brahms leaning into her to sniff at her hair. That had instantly frozen Silmeria, her voice having issue out in a perplexed sound. "What are you doing?!"

Her voice had called attention to his odd act, Brahms having been caught with his nose buried in her hair. It hadn't stopped him from doing a deep inhale, nostrils flaring as he had caught better hold of her scent. She had smelled very much like the polish often used to clean her armor, and there had been the faintest smell of blood that no amount of washings could ever eradicate completely. Too often had this Valkyrie been showered with the blood of her enemies, and that scent clung to her skin even at Silmeria’s cleanest. But for the vampire, it hadn’t been a turn off. If anything it had aroused him, even knowing that the enemies whose blood had stained the Valkryie’s soul, was that of Brahm’s own people.

Aroused by it, by HER, Brahms fangs which had already lengthened in reaction to the blood that had been coloring her pretty mouth, had then seemed to throb with a dull ache. It would have been all too easy to soothe that ache by plunging his fangs into her neck, and gaining the rush of power that would have infused him as he had drank from her.

But he had somehow found the strength to ignore that ever insistent thirst within him, instead performing a move that had had Brahms nuzzling his cheek against her soft hair. Silmeria had said something then, had repeated her earlier question. She had been unable to hide her unease, and it must have been a struggle for her to remain so still without even shaking. She had been both prey and predator in the moment, and all it would have taken is one reaction to topple them both towards making her his meal.

"You smell of death." He had finally answered her, but conveniently let off how that scent of hers was arousing to him. "The blood of my people is all around you, soaked into your very skin…"

"You're one to talk." She had quickly retorted, her voice having snaped out angrily. "You reek of blood! Your breath is made foul with it!"

Brahms had felt something like embarrassment then, for he had known that to a Valkyrie the blood smell would not be an attractive quality at all. "I fed before coming here." He had admitted. The position he had had her in, kept him from seeing her face. Had she worn disgust then? He would never know for sure.

Silence had followed those words, brief but lasting long enough to be awkward. And then when Silmeria had spoken, it had nothing to do with his feeding. "You've come here with a purpose. If it's not to kill King Odin...then..." Brahms had felt her tensing up, Silmeria had been preparing to do something, even though he had held both her arms captive in his grip. "You've come to finish what was started on the battle field between us."

He had never gotten a chance to deny it, Silmeria had suddenly driven herself backwards so that her head had crashed into his face. His nose had stung from the blow, the Valkyrie having twisted desperately to get free of him. Even as he had held on to her arms, she had been stamping her feet downwards, the metal greaves she had wore around them having added to the strength to the blow on his foot.

With a curse Brahms had released her but only the one arm. She had jerked violently on the wrist he had still held onto, glaring at him though Silmeria had never actually screamed. He had jerked on her arm too, causing her unwilling form to jave ended up plastered against his broad chest. Quickly, he had put his other hand on the back of her head, claws almost having pricked her scalp. She had glared up defiantly at him, Brahms staring down as he made an admission of truth.

"Yes, you guessed it. My purpose in coming here this night was to see you."

Why had been the question in her eyes, but then a voice had suddenly called out. "Silmeria? Are you here?" A second voice soon joined the other, Brahms realizing that both of the Valkyrie's sisters had come looking for her.

Frustration had bloomed in him then, Brahms having not wanted the encounter to end. Silmeria had begun to renew her struggles, actually having pushed at his chest with her free hand. The touch of her hand on his skin had electrified him, Brahms jerking back as though shocked. Silmeria had looked ready to finally scream, and the vampire had been able to sense the nervous energy coiling within her.

"If you do not wish for your sisters to die this night, you will keep quiet about my presence here!" Brahms had hissed at her. Silmeria had read the truth of his words in his eyes. There would be a blood bath in this garden if he was forced to fight her sisters now. She had nodded her understanding, Brahms having then dragged her towards the shadows. Mere seconds later, the two sisters would enter the garden area, looking about for Silmeria.

Silmeria had stopped her struggles, a quiet tension working through her. She had been uneasy, more so for her sisters' safety, than for the fact that she was in the undead king's arms. He could have lost himself to staring down at her face, but he hadn't let her nearness distract him so completely. Not when her two sisters had been prowling about the garden, the women quickly finding the forgotten helm and discarded sword of Silmeria. 

Those carelessly abandoned objects had been enough to raise the alarm, the Valkyries having then initiated a search throughout the entire castle. The night's funeral procession had been all but forgotten, Silmeria's absence a far greater concern. It would take some maneuvering, but Brahms would manage to escape from Valhalla, and with Silmeria still in his possession. And the entire time, they had traveled, he hadn't known what he was ultimately going to do with her, the Valkyrie that had been his unwilling hostage.

The smart move would have been to kill her, and flee. With her blood boosting his already considerable powers, it would have been far too easy to take down any Valkyrie that might have crossed his path. And yet he had hesitated, and it had cost him, an enchantment being cast that extended beyond the castle walls. It was a temporary spell, but no less powerful than the ones on the stones of the castle. It had the power to prevent vampires from teleporting into the area, or out of it, forcing Brahms to travel in a more mundane way.

He hadn't even been able to steal a horse, all areas of the castle on alert for any suspicious activity. It had left Brahms and his captive to journey on foot, taking a less traveled path away from the castle. He had bound Silmeria's hands behind her back with the cord of his belt and had even gone so far as to muffle her voice with a gag. Of course, once they had been far enough from Valhalla, he had removed it, the vampire wanting to hear her voice even though Brahms thought that all she would do was curse at him.

Their journey had been an odd one, that night seeming to stretch on to infinity. Silmeria had echoed his words from that first confrontation of theirs, telling him that she didn't understand him. Back then he hadn't had a suitable reply, Brahms having been just as confused as the Valkyrie had been as to what he had been doing. He hadn't come to Silmeria with the intent to kill her, and the more time he had spent with her, the further the line between them had blurred. He hadn't wanted to view her as an enemy, and the conversations that they would have, stilted though the talk ultimately was, had only further cemented his interest in her.

He had not gotten the chance to take her back to any of the undead camps. At that time, when Brahms had been at his most indecisive about Silmeria, it would have been sheer folly to take her among his soldiers. They would have demanded her death, and Brahms would have had to comply so long as he had not had a good reason towards keeping her alive.

Her people would eventually track them down, at almost the same instant that remnants of his army would appear. Brahms had been surprised at the reluctance that boiled within him at the reality of parting from Silmeria. As surprised as he had been uneasy with it. Such that Brahms had rebelled against the feelings he had been developing for her, eagerly letting her slip from his grip.

It would take some time for Brahms to come to terms with the feelings, and with what had happened that strange night. But by the time that he did, he would recognize Silmeria for what she actually was. That of a kindred spirit, a soul that matched his. Silmeria had made his heart race, his body having yearned for something more than nourishing blood. And with that Brahms had realized how willing he was to be damned thrice over to possess her.

There would surely be consequence for what he had done, but Brahms was prepared to deal with those. Just as he was prepared to handle his people, some of which were immensely worried over the making of a former Valkyrie into a vampire. No one knew what sort of creature he would have created, and many were uneasy about the idea of a Queen who had once been the death of so many of their own kind.

Brahms knew that he would have to work to quell their fears, to overcome any worries his people might have. But the more challenging a task would be that of winning over Silmeria. Of getting her to accept her new life, both as a vampire, and as his bride. He wasn't sure what kind of adversity she would offer him, but Brahms was sure he would meet and succeed at all her challenges.

He could have lost himself even further into the thoughts of both the past and the future he now expected to have with Silmeria, but her awakening was upon him. The tell tale beat of her heart, weak as it was, fluttered to life with a strength that was growing. It served to let him know that she was about to awaken for the first time as a vampire. His eyes went to her face, noting the slight tan of her skin. It would one day fade to the unearthly pale of all vampires, but for now she was still kissed by the sun. Her flesh wouldn't be the only change, her eyes would one day take on the crimson color of all the undead. It was actually a shame, Brahms having liked the lovely blue color of her Valkyrie eyes. But such a change would come, regardless of his wishes, once Silmeria actively began feeding on blood.

He would be there for her first feeding. A vampire's first taste of blood was always such a poignant moment, a significant first step towards accepting their new state of existence.. Brahms intended to be there for all of Silmeria's firsts, to enjoy the highs and the lows of eternity with his new bride. This awakening was the first of them, Brahms having kept strict vigil over her since before arriving at the castle.

Her chest began to move in a steady and pronounced rythm, rising with a feigned breath as her heart beat began to grow even stronger. When Silmeria's eyes finally began to flutter open, Brahms felt a shiver of pleasure go through him. That beautiful blue that colored those eyes, silmeria at first seeming to stare straight through him. And then they focused. He began to smile at her, a hint of fang in that expression as Brahms took one step towards the bed. 

"Silmeria...How are you feeling?"

It was all he got to asked, for she was suddenly lunging out of the bed with the preternatural speed of a vampire. Brahms had only seconds to react, his startled reaction showing on his face as Silmeria lunged towards him. As her hands went to close around his neck, her nails lengthened into claws. Brahms had just enough time to register the startled thought that Silmeria was simply too fast for a newly awakened fledgling.

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my friend Huntress for holding my hand as I struggled with this chapter. I let her read the first like....twenty paragraphs maybe...plus she listened to me ranting and raving in IM conversations as I got frustrated by this chapter, and how long it was turning out to be. It turned out so long, I have to push back Lezard's appearance to chapter six.
> 
> 9/14/2017 Updated with a little under 2000 words. This one was INSANE to work on! @_@
> 
> Michelle


	5. Five

Silmeria hadn’t had a real thought in what had felt like forever. Certainly she had had no memories, no nightmares and no dreams. Her sluggish mind had simply been too busy and too slow to spare the energy needed to do such a thing, the Valkyrie’s body struggling to not only recover from her latest trauma, but to heal completely ALL the wrong that had ever been done to it. In that dreamless, thoughtless state, her body devoted its entirety to it’s self appointed task, Silmeria feeling as though she was floating, surrounded by the nothingness that had manifested itself as never ending darkness.

In that empty state of existing, when the Valkyrie’s mind finally did form a thought, the mental kick back of stimuli had been downright painful. With that throbbing awareness came a flurry of input,   
an overactive imagining of thoughts, feelings, and memories. This arresting array was indeed too much at once for the Valkyrie, so completely overwhelming that the woman was unable to focus on any one single thing. She still had impressions though, vague uncertain slivers, some so fantastical that it left Silmeria unable to tell just what was real, and was what simply the result of a creative and harried imagination. So fast did these images come and go that Silmeria was left dizzy and breathless, unable to grasp hold of any, the woman confused by the thoughts. 

Faces flickered before her, the men and the woman that she was most familiar with. She saw that of her sisters, of Hrist and of Lenneth, one stern the other frantic, and both holding a world of worry and pain in their eyes. They weren’t the only ones. Silmeria saw the faces of her sisters in arms, the many different Valkryie maidens who did not hold a blood relation to her. Names tried to come and go, Silmeria picking out three amongst them that hurt her the most to remember. But she couldn’t fathom the reason behind that particular pain, and all too soon she was lost to the face of another. That of her liege, the King of all the heavens. Odin was not among the most friendly of faces, but he was the one who had the most impact on her immortal career. But there was much she still could not remember, Silmeria simply unable to think straight enough. 

She was unable to do any more than that, Silmeria hearing whispers on the edge of her consciousness. She couldn’t quite focus to make out what was being said, the words that lingered just out of her ears’ reach, taunting her with the memories that they might have held. Thoughts simply too unclear, Silmeria’s mind had been dulled for too long, her many memories suppressed as a result of her injuries. By the strength of her pain, by the trauma and severity of the attack that she had once had to endure. Silmeria couldn’t imagine the strength that had taken, or just how she had survived it at all. For right now the Valkryie could not even remember the details of the attack, that and the resulting shock of it swallowed up, the recollection of the days that had followed her fall on the battlefield now nothing more than fragments. But that was nothing new. Silmeria had NEVER been able to remember clearly those first days that had followed after. She had had the pain medications and herbal tonics to thank for that, the haze that they had helped to induce, having left Silmeria incoherent for nearly a full week.

She had needed that break from reality. From the pain and the fact that it would take time to heal the worst of it. She had needed more than just time, many treatments being administered, dozens upon dozen of potent pain relievers and body numbing potions making up the reality that had become Silmeria’s unending days and nights. So constant had the pain been, that the fear on just about everyone’s mind had been that Silmeria would always be afflicted by it. She had actually expected to live out the rest of her life crippled by it, forever dependant upon the potions and various herbal remedies. Even if she had not, even if the pain would someday become manageable, life as Silmeria had known it was changed, her thriving military career over and done with.

For so long had that pain of hers persisted, whole weeks going by, the Valkyrie lost to it. Silmeria’s life had been in a standstill, the woman unable to do much, barely able to live, but also unwilling to simply lay down and die. It had taken time, lots and lots of it sacrificed for little real progress. It was a slow going road to recovery, but little by little, that pain that Silmeria still suffered with, began to get somewhat better. Life became that much closer to tolerable, and as the days had passed, Silmeria had finally been well enough so that a decision could be made at long last. It had been with the understanding that though Silmeria would never make a full and complete recovery, there had still been one last service that she was honor bound to give to her liege. Never again would Silmeria fight for Odin and his kingdom, never again would she physically see to the safeguarding of the nine realms. But there was another way, one last duty that Silmeria was still capable of performing, her body still viable as being something other than a Valkyrie.

The details of Odin’s decree were worked on and ironed out, Silmeria having learned that she was to be given away to some man. But not just ANY man, but a king in his own right, Rufus of Alfeim, the lord who ruled over all of the fae and that of the elves. That she would be given up as part of an agreement to maintain a truce between the two kingdoms wasn’t that surprising a decision. It was absolute truth that Valkyrie Goddesses were a high quality of women, who made for highly sought after brides. For their grace and their beauty, and for the abilities that a child of the Valkryies would inherit. 

It was just one more form of duty for the Valkryies, the unenviable fate of those who did not die in battle. Silmeria had always known that the chance had existed that this fate would one day befall her. But Silmeria had thought, hoped, it would be far, far in her future. 

She wouldn’t fight and rail against such a future now becoming her reality. She had understood, even accepted that this was fate. She might have even taken comfort from the fact that her marriage wouldn’t be to just anyone. That that union would help reforge an alliance, strengthen the truce between the two kingdoms. That tension that had started to poison relations between Asgard and Alfeim had been in need of an offering, a SACRIFICE to appease it.

Silmeria would be that sacrifice, her marriage to Alfeim’s King, meant to to make all the difference. In both sustaining a lasting peace between the two kingdoms, and in keeping them united against the ever encroaching threat of the Undead. It might have even have made all the difference in turning the tide of war to the two realm’s favor. The one thing in common that they, that ALL of the nine realms shared, was that of the threat of Lord Brahms and his people. His undead was a legion unto itself, the creatures hated and reviled, and persecuted by all. 

Such was the open animosity and hatred towards the undead, that Brahms’ kind was welcomed nowhere. Yet such was their numbers, that never had a definitive blow been struck against them. They were like insects, no worse than, for they not only continued to survive, they did so by thriving off of blood they they murdered, thieved and manipulated for.

The undead were as different from the Asgardians as night was from day. Those stark contrasts were what defined the right from the wrong. Most didn’t question it, most didn’t wonder at why the undead were like that. And once Silmeria had been just another one of the unquestioning throngs. She STILL sort of was, although something had been changing inside of her for a long while now. The young woman had always felt herself to be a little different. That feeling was just strong enough that Silmeria had never truly fit. Not as a Valkyrie warrior, and not as a Goddess. That lack of belonging, that feeling that persisted, was it that what had left her so accepting? Of a fate that would have had most Valkyries running, their openly proud and defiant natures keeping them from going meekly off to their marriage beds. Because even at their most crippled, the Valkyries often resented being handed off like mere cattle. 

But not Silmeria. There had been a calmness to her, an acceptance that had nothing to do with submission, the Valkyrie curious, a sense of anticipation suffusing her. She might have had even been looking forward to this next stage of her life. This change that would be so different, and so new. Not even the pain that had colored her every step and movement could get Silmeria to think otherwise. Because there was an opportunity for something more, a chance for her to find happiness. Even with the pain, that crippling, debilitating sensation having had plenty of time to have flared up by now. And yet, there was NONE of it. 

She was puzzled by the complete lack of it, the pain not so much dulled as entirely GONE. It should have been impossible, and yet without it, there was nothing holding her back. Not even her amazement, Silmeria’s thoughts having then scattered at the soft thump of sound that was someone’s boot stepping down on stone. 

She didn’t immediately question how the past and it’s memories could snap free of that leash that they had put on her. She was able to shake free of even those last lingering thoughts, her gaze focusing outwards to watch and see the figure that was approaching her.

That man instantly became the only thing that Silmeria was aware of, the details of his appearance commanding her focus. Large in stature, his was an imposing figure, with a body that was as tall as Lord Odin if not more so. It was such an impressive height, this man a being who was meant to dwarf all others around him, and Silmeria would not be the exception. Positively dainty in appearance, Silmeria could see how the man would tower over her in ALL circumstances.

He was big in all sense of the word, with thick muscular arms and a broad chest. A sleeveless green vest stretched tight over his torso, the revealing garment tailor made from the looks of it, yet still straining to cover even half of that amount of muscle and skin. That left a tantalizing canvas of flesh on display, Silmeria’s eyes drawn to all of that flawless, dark skin. That flesh color was one that complimented well with his dark hair, a brown that sometimes looked black In the dim lighting of the room. There was thick volume to it, and plenty of length gathered together to form one hell of mane. It had been spiked in places, seeming to obey it's own laws of gravity in how it stayed up and moved about on it’s own.

Even without that magnificent head of hair, this man would never have been able to pass himself off as anything as mundane as a mortal. The dark colored skin would have thrown her, had Silmeria not been aware of his true nature already, his kind of people a pale skinned lot that had never known the kiss of the sun’s ray. His however was a marvel, that dark dusky color that marked him as something different, yet Silmeria wasn’t fooled for one second. Not when the crimson red of his eyes were focused on her, that dark blood color seeming to positively smolder with all of his lusts and his desires. 

Focused on him like he was on her, Silmeria had reacted long before that smile of his revealed a hint of lengthening fang. Her mind kicked in a name, but it was instinct that took over, Silmeria reacting to the perceived threat of just who and what she now faced.

Brahms. 

It was him, the vampire king in the flesh. The Lord Ruler of all the Undead, The Bringer of Nightmares, The Dealer of Death. He was also the very fiend that had been obsessed with getting near to her for far longer than Silmeria actually cared to remember.

In the seconds that it took for her to go from assessing his looks, to recognizing him as a very real threat, Silmeria had charged forward, the woman every inch of a Valkyrie that had spied her unnatural enemy. This went beyond the hatred of the races, Silmeria’s stomach cramping with unease. There was the unpleasant feel of her skin actually crawling, Silmeria recalling the tireless way that Brahms had pursued her. It was a pursuit that had cost her nearly everything, his undead minions responsible for all of her crippling and career ending injuries.

She neither had the time nor the desire to remember that particular incident, Silmeria instead lurching upright and forward. The thin sheet that had been covering her slipped off, Silmeria’s legs having to kick free of it's silk like material. The bed beneath her feet was soft but springy, lending a real bounce to her steps, and more importantly giving Silmeria a boost to her height when she stood. She would take and use any and all advantage, Silmeria effortlessly running atop the bouncy mattress. The surprise was on his face, her momentum such that Silmeria easily launched herself AT the vampire king. She wasn’t capable of actually flying, but that leap was the next best thing. Airborne and hurtling towards him, it was Brahms who reached up and caught at her with his big hands. She ignored the feel of those hands closing about her waist, Silmeria too busy bringing up hers to do similar around his neck. But even that part of him was thick like the rest of him, to the point that Silmeria couldn’t reach enough around to truly do a strangle hold on the vampire. She still made a valiant effort all the same, her anger, animosity and frustrations all flaring. Her arms tensed as a result of the attempt, her scrambling, struggling fingers digging into his flesh as the woman attempt to find the purchase needed to rip out his throat. Silmeria glared into Brahm’s face as she did this, the inside of her thighs coming to cradle on either side of his waist. 

She was a crimson reflection in the depths of the vampire’s eyes, Silmeria absentmindedly noticing that her blond hair looked especially wild and all askew. It lent a presence to her, made Silmeria look like she was some vengeful creature, the woman all feral and full of animosity. 

The open desire and the naked lust of the vampire’s earlier expression had given way to one of amazement. He had seemed shocked as a result of her attack, but Silmeria didn't try to analyze the reason why. She did note however that he wasn't trying to throw her off of him, actually tightening his hands' grip upon her waist instead. She didn’t like that, didn't like him touching her. Not when it hit too close to home, reminding Silmeria of another time, a moment that was some memory in her near past. That time too he had clutched at her body, his hands upon her waist as the vampire had lowered his face towards hers. 

She had to blink and shake her head in an effort to dispel the unwanted memory. Silmeria knew that she couldn't afford to be distracted. Not by her thoughts, and not by the fact that Brahms’ lips were moving, his fangs flashing as that infernal fiend tried to speak. She barely registered his words, let alone understood them. But Silmeria could hazard a guess, certain that the vampire was commanding her to stop, and telling her that such attacks were useless against him. But the Valkyrie already knew that much, choosing instead to continue to vent her rage upon him. Because it felt GOOD, that anger that Silmeria had keeping her from realizing so many things, the pain, the fear, and the potential that she had to be helpless around him.

His crimson eyes then blazed even hotter, that red color an expression of both his thoughts and his feelings. He smoldered with an unholy desire, but more than that, there was the exasperation that came with the realization that talking was not going to do him any good. It was then that his hands shifted their grip about her slim waist, that impressive strength of his called into play to effortlessly haul Silmeria off of him. Her dragging nails gouged open flesh, his throat bleeding whole rivulets of the dark spurting liquid.

She didn’t seem to notice, Silmeria too focused on fighting. An incoherent hiss would issue out of her, Simeria finding that Brahms had bodily thrown her. The Valkyrie hit hard against a wall, but even that did not stun her, Silmeria already bounding forward, her fingers with their sharp nails reaching for the vampire again.

Slashing without even thinking about the absurdity of such an attack, Silmeria sliced her nails through now empty air. That fiend had teleported! It left her snarling, Silmeria pivoting on her heel as she turned about in an attempt to find her target. He was there by the bed again, the opposite side now, and wearing the weirdest expression that the Valkyrie had ever seen. On him, and on anyone, his crimson eyes almost astonished. She didn’t take the time to wonder why, her body coiled with her instinctive need to attack.

For one brief second, they locked eyes together, the two exchanging a stare. That crimson glare left Silmeria rooted in place, the woman cautious about approaching a vampire so thoroughly alert to her. It was only when Brahms suddenly grimaced, a hand going to his damaged throat, that Silmeria saw an opening. He seemed surprised and in pain at what his fingers had felt, the vampire actually making the mistake of looking down at his hand for one moment. 

Distracted by the blood that now was on his fingers, Brahms almost hadn’t seen Silmeria in time. By all rights he should have died, the Valkyrie’s victory something that should have been absolute. And it would have been if Silmeria’s opponent had been anyone else save the Lord of the Undead. Her bare hands alone weren’t enough, no matter how great her desire was to beat the vampire to death with them. She had barely managed a fist, Brahms snagging hold of Silmeria by her arms. To be so thwarted in her desires, to find herself restrained by the vampire? It left Silmeria absolutely infuriated, a feral growl erupting from inside her. 

Half trapped and made completely wild, Silmeria didn’t let the situation stop her. The fight within her flared even stronger, the woman lashing out with her both of legs, her right knee aimed at one weak point in particular. But that attack didn't land, Silmeria finding instead she had been thrown again. This time down onto the bed’s mattress, her body bouncing hard in place against the soft, springy surface. The force of it knocked the wind out of her, Silmeria left stunned. No thoughts left in her head, only the rage fueled emotions, it was instinct that would have guided her, Silmeria ready to spring up in an attempt to continue her attacks against Brahms.

She never got the chance, the vampire king at last at the end of his patience. With that unnatural speed that all of the vampires possessed, the undisputed King of the Undead lunged forward, his full weight brought against her. Silmeria found herself pinned in place with the vampire king on top of her, his weight and his body pressing her down into the mattress. Straddled by him, and listening to his breath rasping out of him in harsh exaggerated pants, Silmeria should have been panicked. Any other women in her place would have, when faced with being held down by a man who had lusted so strongly, that in order to possess hold of her, he could and had done just about everything!

A memory then tried to spike, a far different kind of battlefield called to mind. The memory of that place fed into her anger, Silmeria remembering how she was first and foremost a Valkyrie, a supereme being that was both a warrior goddess and unflinchingly fierce battle maiden. Panic of any kind was that of an undignified weakness, one that had no place or fit in a Valkyrie’s heart. No room for it then, and certainly no room for it now, Silmeria refusing to let if overtake her. She fought it, and she fought Brahms, Silmeria thrashing about with her body, struggling to get her legs free of him. An arm raised, and an open handed slap went across the vampire’s face. Such was the force of Silmeria’s blow, that Brahms head actually turned to the side as a result. 

For one second there was nothing more Nothing save for the setting of Brahms’ jaw, the visible clenching of his lip, teeth tightly ground together in an effort to suppress HIS growl. Her name still grated out of him, Brahms all but snarling the word. “Silmeria!”

That ended the frozen moment, Silmeria resuming her vigorous struggles. “Get off of me, you fiend!" She had then hissed back, her hand raising to slap the vampire across his face a second time. Her wrist was then caught by Brahms, his cruel fingers harsh about the bone, the vampire forceful in his efforts to keep any further strikes from being thrown. Silmeria’s fury knew no bounds at this, her one fist caught, but not the other.

“Abomination!" She added action to the insult, trying to hit him with her other hand. That too was caught in just as brutal a grip, the vampire wearing what might have been a merciless smirk as he had then pressed her back against the mattress. Caught in that unrelenting grip, the vampire stretched the Valkryie’s arms up above her head. Silmeria was effectively pinned and made to feel helpless, the placement of her arms one that screamed of forced submission. But her panic still didn’t come, Silmeria refusing to allow it to give birth in her heart. Not even as she arched and bucked against his body, her every struggle beneath only proving a lesson in futility. She wasn’t going to get free, not on her own, and Silmeria let out a scream of impotent fury.

Thrashing about even more, nothing could get through to her. Nothing save the sudden quickening of his breath, Silmeria having then noticed the blatant interest that was showing in his eyes. She quickly realized that the bastard was getting off on her struggles, and that almost caused her to go still, Silmeria burning with the desire to take that particular satisfaction away from Brahms.

She didn’t though. Instead she kept right on fighting, Silmeria attempting to buck him off of her body with her violent movements. It was a lot like hitting a brick wall, that stone like mass completely immovable. It was an unfortunate but true fact that it would take a far greater strength than hers to knock Brahms from his seat. That made Silmeria growl in mounting fury, the woman unable to relax. The first real trickle of a very fear gnawed it’s way into her thoughts. What would Brahms do to her, now that he had the Valkyrie pinned to the bed beneath him?

For the moment though, Brahms was apparently content to only just look at her. But even that was too much, that smoldering stare of his near unbearable. That crimson gaze made Silmeria feel unclean, that sharp focus so completely dark, devouring her every movement, every reaction, so that the vampire would miss nothing about her. Such an intent, unfathomable expression left Silmeria unable to read it. It built her unease, that unclean feeling mounting, the woman uncertain of just where the vampire’s thoughts lay. His were a veritable mystery to her, and the young Valkyrie would hardly be appeased to know that hers thoughts were as equally unreadable to him. 

The exasperated Valkyrie stared up a the vampire above her. His face only served to annoy her, Silmeria exhaling a deep, aggravated breath. And with that breath, sound was restored to her, Silmeria hearing the rush of all manner of noise. The sudden volume of it, and the clarity left her shaking, Silmeria realizing that this noise had always been there, serving as a muted background to the fighting that had just briefly went on.

The sounds bothered Silmeria now that she was so keenly aware of them. She could hear footsteps, and the whisper of fabrics rustling. Voices spoke, their words sometimes about HER. Silmeria could not fathom the reason why, or how close these people actually were to her location. Not when their voices had an echoing quality to it, their words both coming from a distance AND sounding too close for her comfort. 

The other sounds that accompanied the voices, let Silmeria know there was other thiings besides people around her. She couldn’t take comfort in that, not when she was most likely held in the stronghold of the vampire king, his undead minions all ready to stand as obstacle to her every attempt at escape. But there wasn’t just vampires and monsters about. There was the lonely howl of what might have been a wolf sounding in her ears. It was nearly drowned out by the buzzing of insects, those night thriving creatures chirping out an unholy song.

Any and all sounds now existed for her, Silmeria able to make out the sounds of a choppy and violent sea. Whole waves of it crested angrily against some rocks, the water slapping firmly at a sandy coast. Tree leaves rustled like the hoof beat of horses, her every sound heard at an unnaturally loud volume. Hearing all of this only confused her, more than half of these sounds being something that should have been impossible to make out. Even as a Goddess, Silmeria knowing that even with a Valkyrie’s superior senses, she should never have been able to hear half of what she now did.

Silmeria shook her head as though that could free her from this particular distraction. She needed to be analyzing the situation, counting out the number of people that she could hear moving about the building. It was a lot from the sound of it, but Silmeria wanted a concrete number. How many undead stood between her and freedom? How many did she have to fight and kill or sneak past? Silmeria couldn’t tell, a frown twisting briefly across her lips. Freedom had never seemed so out of reach, the woman wondering what chance did she actually have. 

Odds against her thus, Silmeria’s blood still boiled for a fight. She was not even winded from her efforts against Brahms. Instead of exhaustion or that of pain, the Valkyrie actually felt exhilarated, her heart beating even stronger. This was a world of difference from the pain that she had known first hand, those weeks spent in bed, crippled and moaning, hurting from even the slightest of movement. Not even the tonics had been able to completely do away with and ease her pain, Silmeria suffering. Suffering in a way that she no longer actually felt, the woman letting out a pronounced gasp to realize what she had done, what she had felt. This was no medicine, and no amount of adrenaline pumping through her could have stopped her from feeling the debilitating effects of her injuries. 

It wasn’t the only impossibe, but it was one of the most pressing. Silmeria wanted to puzzle out the hows and whys of her miraculous recovery, but everything was interfering, It wasn’t just the sounds that crept into her awareness. It was the tantalizing smell, a sweetly seductive scent that seemed to call to her. Silmeria had tried to ignore it, the woman not needing any more distractions. Her nostrils still flared with her attempts to breathe in more of that appetizing scent when something hot splashed against her cheek. 

It shouldn’t, couldn’t be that hot, and yet it was, Silmeria feeling that liquid warmth burn a brand into her skin. Another splash hit her, and then another, lingering for one frozen eternity, before it smeared. Hyper focused on it, Silmeria felt every inch of her branded, as that red hot streak burned a path down her face. 

That brand just narrowly missed her lips, that streak of liquid almost touching the right corner of Silmeria’s mouth. It was disturbing how it’s very nearness seduced her, Silmeria actively longing to reach out and touch her tongue to it. Her teeth positively ached with desire, Silmeria started to strain and arch beneath the vampire holding her down. His own eyes had narrowed, the crimson afire with some dark emotion that made it difficult to acknowledge the existence of. So she didn’t, Silmeria slowly but surely breaking the connection of their gaze.

Free from the compulsion of his eyes, Silmeria truly looked at Brahms. She saw his handsome face as a whole, took in the irresistible good looks that both soothed and tricked mortals into doing his bidding. That stark sensuality had been the end of so many, might even be the ruin of HER, Silmeria’s gaze lingering on his hard, unforgiving lips. His fangs had lengthened noticeably, the sharp incisors ready and waiting to bite down on anyone in reach. 

Fighting alarm at that thought, Silmeria tried to look away. Her gaze slid here and there, trying to take in her surroundings instead. The Vampire king’s nearness, his presence was suffocating her, drowning her in bodily awareness. Nothing else existed, nothing save the man on top of her, and that was BEFORE she glanced at his neck. At his BLEEDING throat, Silmeria being riveted in place by the sight. Those deep tears that had been gouged into him by the Valkyrie’s own nails, the skin torn ragged from her earlier brutality. Blood welled and trickled out, staining his throat crimson. 

His innate abilities lessened the extent of the damage, Brahms healed enough that he wasn’t gushing blood everywhere anymore. Instead there was that slow trickle, many trails collecting together, to form fat drops of blood that hung suspended between them. What felt like another small eternity must have passed, and then one of the lingering drops broke free. It’s slow, lazy descent splashed hot against her cheek. Silmeria didn’t flunch at that though, her eyes remaining open and staring enrapt at Brahms' throat. At the blood and the tears, that flesh that had been made ragged by her own nails digging in and dragging. It looked like it HURT, the skin torn so raw, and yet it wasn’t the nastiest of wounds. Not to a vampire, and not to a Valkyrie who had been active on the battlefields. Silmeria had not only seen worse, she had suffered through it. 

No wound, no matter how bloody and severe had ever held such a fascination to her. But this one now did, Silmeria almost hypnotized by the blood that continued to collect, the drops against her skin making her shudder in a way that had nothing to do with revulsion. Silmeria did not properly understand it, did not know why the blood had woven such a spell over her. Reality itself was affected, time seeming to slow, the many sounds that she had been hearing dulling to a subdued quiet. Why even Silmeria’s own breath seemed to stop, the woman aware of nothing but the fact that she existed. That HE existed, and that his blood was so tempting and close.

Unconsciously in reaction, Silmeria licked at her lips, which now felt dry like her mouth. She was still so focused on the blood, unable to note the way that Brahms; own eyes had dilated at the sight of her tongue licking over her bottom lip. What she did know was that another drop was about to fall, Silmeria almost moaning with anticipation at the idea of feeling it splash against her skin. His blood that was so hot, burned like a fever to Silmeria. She wondered why, a vampire’s blood normally cold unless they had fed recently. Had Brahms fed, and if so then just WHOSE blood was it that ran hot through his veins?

That troubling thought didn’t disturb Silmeria as much as it should have. Nothing was normal, not about the situation, not about him, and certainly not about her. Why else would she have arched herself upwards, straining against the very hands that held her pinned down, That cruel grip was maintained, but the vampire didn’t try to actually stop her. Brahms LET Silmeria press her front against his. His chest was marked with spilled blood, the copious amounts having fallen from the first intial gush of his throat’s wounds.

Not yet dried, that red treat became a stain upon Silmeria’s own dress, the woman continuing to press her breasts against the vampire king. This was no liquid warmth to burn her, the blood there having already had a chance to cool. Silmeria didn’t like that, the woman WANTING the heat that was escaping from Brahm's neck. And with that want, a beat sounded, then repeated again and again, Silmeria realizing that she was hearing the sound of the vampire’s heart. And with each beat of it, more blood seemed to flow, his heart’s strong, steady rhythm echoing louder and louder in her ears. It was a seductive beat, Silmeria staring at the pulse in his neck as she licked her lips once more.

Her arch up didn't put her as close as she would have liked, Silmeria now frowning. She again strained against the hands that held her wrists captive, and suddenly just like that, she was free. Too taken with his blood flow, Silmeria didn’t stop to think, to wonder why he had released her from his grasp. Nor did she bother to ask herself just why that man was holding himself absolutely still. He was still situated a top her though, but there was enough freedom now to move, the woman shifting closer, her hand reaching for his hair. It’s spiky styled strands tickled oddly against her palm, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. Certainly it wasn’t enough to get her to stop, Silmeria stroking over his hair again. Over and over, and then down, her hand tangling through the thick strands of it, so that the Valkyrie could grip the vampire by the nape of his neck. 

With that grip secured, Silmeria had hauled herself upright, her face then burying itself in the side of his neck. Her nostrils had started flaring, Silmeria inhaling the aromatic scent of his blood. THIS is what she desired, what was making her so hungry, the scent such that Silmeria likened Brahms’ blood to the sweetest of ambrosia. She trembled then with excitement, both her hands on him, fingers actually shaking as they touched to and examined the damaged mess that the woman had made of his throat. The blood there was there so fresh, so hot and so slick, that it made Silmeria moan with the fiercest of need. She grazed and stroked her fingers over that damaged flesh, so that the blood would soak and stick to her skin. With that gathered taste on her fingers’ tips, Silmeria brought them close to touch her lip. And THAT is when she truly noticed her nails.

Far longer than was natural, and currently tipped with a man’s blood, these were not the nails of a Valkyrie. Or even that of a mortal woman. Curving like claws, and looking dangerous and sharp, Silmeria recognized them for what they were. A vampire's claws. Her nostrils flared with her alarm, the dismayed breath unable to keep her strongest desire at bay. A rumble of protest sounded from deep within her, urging Silmeria to taste the blood that she had gathered on her fingertips. She ignored it, a horror growing within her as Silmeria began to fully process the oddities of her awakening.

The speed that she had moved with, the sounds that she had heard, the lack of pain that she had felt. Her tongue ran over the tops of her front teeth, and it was there that she felt the pin prick sharpness of fangs. The dawning horror now bloomed in her eyes, half remembered flashes coming to her now in startling clarity. To a scant time of just a few days ago, when she had been nearly invalid from the pain, the herbal remedies barely enough to allow Silmeria to endure the ride inside the escort carriage.

Intertwined with that scene in the carriage was another memory, of vampires, of ghouls and that of the lesser undead. They had surrounded her, attacking with vigor, her armor shattered open to expose the far too delicate skin it had guarded. For one near endless moment, the two scenes then competed for her attention. Silmeria would remember the pain that she had felt as her back had been torn open by cruel claws, remember the sight of her own blood splattering every which way on the ground around her. Most of all Silmeria remembered the struggle to remain upright, to hold onto her sword, the undead converging on her the instant that Silmeria had gone down for good.

These debilitating memories, both brought to mind the crippling pain that Silmeria had slowly been learning to tolerate. She turned from one vivid recollection to another, until ultimately, the memory of her time in the carriage won precedence over that of the battlefield. Silmeria lost herself completely to that recollection, of how neither she nor her sister had been pleased with the number of men and women assigned to accompany them on their journey. The numbers had been far too little for them to truly be safe in the event of an ambush. And yet they had all foolishly persisted, the hope held that such a small party would give off the illusion that this group wasn’t something worthy of the undead’s notice.

Even understanding the idea of that, Silmeria had still been uneasy. She had tried her best to keep her doubts and her worries from her sister, Lenneth. That she had succeeded at that much was not so much attributed to Silmeria, but to the feeling in the air. There had been too many troubling signs, what with the sky clouded over, the sun blocked completely from their view by the storm that was ever so present a threat. And still they had persisted in continuing the mission, worried that this might be their one and only chance to spirit Silmeria away to safety. Her sister Hrist and her einherjar has devoted days to the endeavor, the Valkyrie and her soldiers leading the undead on the most important of chases, slyly guiding them further and further away from the lands around castle Valhalla. 

The vampires and their undead soldiers might have been far from the castle, and from the Valkyrie’s entourage, but not from Silmeria’s thoughts. Lodged firmly in place, her heart had been troubled, both by the undead and by the thought of their leader. That king of theirs, Brahms, the vampire that had so doggedly pursued her. Just his name alone, just the thought of it, was enough to send shivers down Silmeria’s spine. The woman could remembered clutching at her hands, holding them together in a silent prayer. 

Did her prayers have any effect? No, of course not. Brahms was too determined, his every encounter with Silmeria having served to only deepen the vampire lord’s obsession with the woman. Such was his interest, that Silmeria had often wondered if escape had even been possible. She had especially wondered that on the day that had turned out to be as dark as it had. And even with that sky as portent for danger, Silmeria had still tried to stay optimistic, to hope for the best possible out come. It had been foolish, Silmeria now knowing how stupid and vain a hope it had been. There was no way to avoid him, no way to escape Brahms and his vampires.

What might as well have been an army of them, had lain in wait for Silmeria and her escort, the vampires then descending upon them like a tsunami's wave. Everyone would become engulfed in the fighting, Silmeria losing sight of her sister Lenneth, and that of the other Valkyries. As the vampires had overwhelmed the einherjar, never had Silmeria felt as helpless as she had then, able to only watch as her allies had been slaughtered. Many had screamed at their end, their throats ending up torn out, their blood and their bodies littering the ground around Silmeria’s carriage.

Even Silmeira had screamed, crying out for her sister. It had amounted to nothing, Lenneth having been too busy and too far away. She had tried to make up the distance, but for every step she would gain, a vampire would then push the Valkyrie back several more. 

Instead it had been left to the einherjar to try and come to Silmeria's aid. But most would be slaughtered with ease, their killers then surrounding her carriage. The doors had been locked, for all the good that it would do her. Silmeria having known that the vampires could and would use brute strength to tear off the doors. She hadn’t been content to just sit there and wait like a readily available target, Silmeria instead fumbling about the seat for any and everything that could be used as a weapon. She had been prepared to fight, though there had been little she could have actually done. Not so long as she had been drugged up on potions and afflicted with so much of that debilitating pain. And still Silmeria had been determined, the woman not wanting to be taken so easily. 

Miracously her hand closed around one bottle in particular. It was pure chance, and yet Silmeria had fumbled the cap off, just in time to give the first of the vampires who had dared to lean inside her carriage’s window, a face full of the bottle’s holy water. Silmeria would never forget the stench of the vampire’s burning flesh, and the pained howls that the creature had let out as his skin had began to peel off. It had left the vampire distracted enough for an einherjar to then end his pain with a quick beheading.

Silmeria would nearly jump in fright, her heart’s beat in her throat, when the door opposite her was ripped off the carriage. For one lone instant, a tall, broad chest vampire had stood in the shadows. Crimson eyes had stared at her, leaving Silmeria to shrink back against the seat. She had thought it was the vampire king himself, come to collect her personally. His hand had then extended towards her, palm up as though he had expected Silmeria to just give in and take it. 

She had been shaking her head no, lips curling back to bare her teeth in a feral protest when a spear had slammed through to the front of the vampire's chest. The ease in which the vampire had died had comforted Silmeria, the woman having then realized that it wasn't Brahms after all. But there had been no time to relax, the einherjar that had killed the vampire, moving to engage another.

Silmeria had understood that she had been nothing more than a sitting target inside the carriage. And yet she had also known that it had been too risky to leave, to walk amongst the vampires in the midst of their killing spree. She had truly felt helpless then, and that was before the next vampire had reached into the carriage, and had grabbed hold of her arms before Silmeria could properly react.

The only thing that had been left to her to do had been to scream, Silmeria having shouted for her sister as she had feebly pounded her fists against the chest of her captor. She had been dragged out the window, the vampire having shown little true care to how he had treated her.

There hadn't even been time to look for her sister amidst the fighting, the vampire having held Silmeria close as he had teleported them away. It had been a jarring experience, that teleportation. The world had spun dizzily about her, reality’s many colors then blurring together. As suddenly as it had begun, it had been over, Silmeria and the vampire who had still had a hold of her, having arrived at the make shift camp that the undead had set up in the Forest of Spirits.

Brahms had been waiting for her, the man visibly shaking with his impatience. He hadn’t been able to remain still, instead pacing about a path that had had been trampled into existence by his booted feet. Brahms wouldn't relax until Silmeria had been presented before him, and even then the vampire lord had not cracked a smile. Instead he had been rife with tension, that expression of his so solemn and so serious. Silmeria had tried not to tremble before him, holding her head steady as she had locked her eyes with his. That had proven to be a mistake, the only one she had been given the chance to make. Those crimson colored eyes had been so compelling, his stare muddling her thoughts, letting loose an enchantment about her. One that Silmeria had been ill equipped to deal against. Under that compulsion, aided and abetted by the pain and the herbal tonics within her, Silmeria’s already weakened mind had dulled further. That proud strength of will, that and the fierce determination of a Valkyrie, all of it had meant nothing under the combined onslaught of Brahms’s charisma and Silmeria’s own immense pain. Her breaking had been unavoidable, the only thing that had remained in question had been how quickly Brahms could strip the valkyrie of the last of her mental defenses. 

She hadn’t been able to fight him in this, not head on and not in her current condition. Silmeria had still tried to put up a struggle, her eyes having narrowed to focus on a point somewhere above the vampire’s head. Brahms hadn’t been content to be ignored by Silmeria, his large meaty hand reaching to grasp hold of her chin. With a gentle but firm insistence, Brahms had guided her gaze back towards his, the crimson color soon becoming the only thing that she had been able to focus on. Vaguely she had been aware of him speaking, but the words had all been nothing but soft whispers urging her to give in. Silmeria had tried to resist that seductive command, knowing that she had to last long enough for the possibility of her sister Lenneth arriving to rescue her.

"Submit to me...." Brahms had urged her, and something inside her had rebelled at that very thought. He had had no right to demand her obedience in this, in ANY moment! She had tried to jerk free of his grip, but his fingers had tightened on her chin. Other commands had come, Brahms never having lost his patience, even as she had hissed and bore her teeth at him. Silmeria had cursed him, had actually reached up to grab at his wrist in an attempt to pull his hand free of her.

But the world around them had been in the slow midst of fading, the circling vampires that had all stood watch having become mere shadows. It had been as though Silmeria and Brahms had been on a stage, with the lights having grown dim all around them so that only the crimson glow of his eyes remained. She hadn’t been able to keep from losing herself into that glow, Silmeria’s growled out threats dying mid gasp as fangs had sank into her neck. She hadn't even been aware of Brahms having drawn her into his embrace, Silmeria not even feeling his breath on her skin as his fangs had pierced her flesh.

The last of her fight had erupted out of her once he had bit her, Brahms right arm going around her waist. He had hauled her up against him, settling her softness against his solid mass, her body actually attempting to go pliant. Her body had wanted to give in to the pleasurable feel of Brahms' bite, having wanted to sink into oblivion that he had offered her as he had been draining her blood. Silmeria had attempted one last resistance, stamping her foot down on his. Her soft soled slippers had no impact on his boot, and in desperation Silmeria had ended up beating her fists against him. Her struggles had made the pleasure turn to pain, Brahms having turned savage at her neck as he had growled at Silmeria in warning. She hadn't cared, still fighting even as each blow had grown slower, weaker, Silmeria’s mind turning sluggish.

As he had fed, his voice had whispered in her mind, urging her to give up that last bit of her control. Silmeria had hung on by a sliver thin line, one that had been fraying in the center at Brahms' continued persistence. And when it had finally snapped, the woman had gone limp in his arms, a moan escaping her as she had given herself over to the feeding. Silmeria had soon after lost control of her legs, needing Brahms support to stay upright. She had known then that she had been dying, and not even that of her sister's scream could have brought Silmeria back from the abyss.

Her memories were confused over what had happened next, a hot liquid being poured down her throat. She could remember Brahms’ voice, not so much urging as commanding her to drink. Silmeria hadn’t even been aware of what that liquid had been, or where that it had been coming from. But those first mouthfuls were like acid, burning their way down her throat as Silmeria had inadvertently swallowed. Even that had soon changed, the liquid holding a plethora of nutrients that had made her greedy for it. There was life in that drink, salvation, hers. And so Silmeria had drank, aware of nothing but that of her need to survive.

It had been all too similar in feeling and need to the thirst that had taken hold of her just seconds ago. A thirst that remained, that left her mouth dry and aching. But Silmeria had no desire to drink, staring instead absolutely horrified at the blood that was trickling out of Brahms' many throat wounds. The allure that it had first held for her had turned to disgust, Silmeria shaking violently. Her hand was still clutching at Brahms hair, the girl clinging to him like he was the only support she still had left. The vampire lord hadn't even noticed the change in her, an eager moan escaping him.

"Do not stop Silmeria." Brahms' tone was husky, his large hand cupping the back of her head as he attempted to push her face closer to his neck. The thumping of his pulse was louder yet, sounding very much like thunder in her ears. The scent which had been so appetizing before, now made Silmeria want to retch. "Drink from me…"

Silmeria knew that Brahms would like that if she did. It would secure his hold on her, and damn her soul in the process. A moan escaped her then, but it was not one born out of pleasure. It was despair, and that emotion reached through the haze that Brahms had surrounded himself in. He began to shift about, and she had reacted to his movement, pushing and shoving at his chest. Silmeria had desperately wanted him off her BEFORE she gave in to the urge to start screaming.

"Silmeria? What's wrong?"

He wasn't moving as fast or as far as she would have liker, Brahms actually gripping hold of her arms to keep Silmeria rooted on the bed before him. She began to struggle harder, another hiss escaping her. It was better than the sob that had wanted to come out, Silmeria at last raising her eyes to meet his. Her anger clashed with the worried look in Brahms' gaze, and then she was growling at him.

"What have you done?!" She quickly shook her head, wild wisps of blond hair falling across her eyes. She would flinch when Brahms had attempted to brush it back, Silmeria glaring at him as he went still. "How could you?!"

"How could I not?" He was calm as he had retorted with that, speaking as though what he had said had all the rational in the world. Perhaps to Brahms it did, the vampire feeling as though his actions were justified. With that irritatingly calm manner, the vampire Lord had continued with only the slightest hint of agitation tainting in his voice. "How could I do anything but act when you were about to be given away. Given to another man, an undeserving fool?"

"Lord Rufus is a good man." She was shaking with her anger, her breath hissing out of her as Silmeria spoke. "A kind man, a just man. He would have..." She trailed off mid retort, anger spiking in her eyes at the way that Brahms had just openly laughed.

"He would have what?" Brahms prodded at her silence. "Would he have made you happy? Made your life fulfilling?"

She tried not to hesitate, to instead sound sure of her answer. "Yes." She was anything but sure. Her only certainty had been that the marriage would have been for the good of Asgard, relations strengthened between the two realms. Good would have come from the union, even if Silmeria herself might have never learned to love Rufus, or never even come close to being happy with her new life and her duty. 

"You lie." Brahms sounded certain of that, even as she continued to shake her head no. "To me, and to yourself. You'd never be happy with him, never find fulfillment at some elf's side."

"So you what? Acted on my best interest?" She demanded, and he actually nodded, gripping tighter hold of her two arms. "You've turned me into a monster!" She snapped, struggling to get free. "You've made me into a thing that feeds on the life of others. The very creatures that I am sworn to exterminate. The fiend that...." 

"I've given you new life!" Brahms roared over her voice. "I've given you purpose, the chance to find reason and happiness."

"As if I could ever be happy like this!" Silmeria screamed back, her voice just as loud as his. "You think there is joy in killing others? In ending a person's life to further my own?"

"There is more to a vampire's life than that." Brahms protested, but she shook her head no. "There is!" He insisted. "I know this will be a difficult time for you, for us. You need a period of adjustment, but eventually you will see. This was the best course for you."

"You've given me a death sentence!" Silmeria snapped. "My sisters will not tolerate my existence, any more than they will tolerate yours. It would have been a mercy for you to have killed me quick, rather than let me know of such torture, such misery."

"I would sooner rip out my own heart, than let you die." Brahms retorted. "And do you know and understand why?" She didn't, and it showed, Brahms' bruising grip pulling her closer so that he could bring his lips onto hers. "Because you are mine."

She broke the kiss with a hiss, almost snapping her teeth at his lips. But she didn't want to risk the chance of tasting his blood, of getting any more of that foul concoction into her system. "You overbearing, possessive Neanderthal! I am not yours! I will never be yours, no matter what you do to me!"

"You feel the connection between us. I know you do." Brahms had insisted, hardly deterred by her words. "It's existence has been established since the time of our first meeting, though we have both fought against it. We are the same Silmeria...the same sides of a soul, beings who shouldn't exist apart from one another."

"You are delusional as ever if you think to say we are soul mates." She scoffed. "A Valkyrie and a vampire make for mortal enemies, NOT love matches."

"Once I would have agreed with you." Brahms retorted. "I could have killed you back then, and have never known what I would have been stealing from myself."

"Your motivations are as selfish as they are insane." Silmeria sneered. "You seek to secure yourself happiness at the cost of mine!"

"You don't even know what true happiness is!" Brahms pointed out. "Your life as a Valkyrie was hardly fulfilling. You lacked a reason for your existence, a purpose."

"I would have found that purpose at Lord Rufus' side!"

"You wouldn't have!" Brahms snapped back. "How could that man, that elf, ever hope to make you happy? To give you the kind of life that you need?"

"We would have managed." Silmeria answered coldly. "Now let go of me."

"I won't let you go far from me." He warned her, slowly relaxing his grip. She immediately shot out from under him, fleeing to the farthest corner of the room. He turned just as fast as Silmeria had, his watchful eyes marking every inch of her progress. His unsettling gaze stayed on her, Silmeria trying to ignore the way that he continued to look at her, reaching up with her still shaking hands in an attempt to try and wipe off the blood smears sticking to her face. Even once those streaks of blood were gone, Silmeria continued to rub at her cheeks, that skin feeling as though it could never get clean again  
.  
"Stop that." Brahms grumbled an order. "You only serve to irritate your skin." 

She ignored him, continuing her rubbing motions. She wanted the blood gone, from her hands, from her dress, from her SOUL. Would a bath even be enough to get her that clean feeling ever again? Silmeria doubted it. Not when her very insides had been tainted by Brahms’s blood, her core more vampire than Valkyrie now.

~It's just not fair.~ She thought to herself. Her future was supposed to be so much more than this. She was supposed to finally find her reason for existing, her chance at happiness. Even if her match with Rufus might have never produced love, at least there would have been other things to distract her. To give her purpose. She'd no longer have to fight, or spend an indefinite eternity out on the battlefield. Brahms had stolen all that away from her, and more, Silmeria realizing that her transformation had also stolen away her sisters.

Yet another thought had hit her, Silmeria's hands suddenly stilling in place at her sides. Lenneth! What had happened to her? She had heard her dear sister's scream, Lenneth having arrived just as Brahms had finished drinking Silmeria to the brink of death. Horrified, the young woman now met Brahms' crimson gaze, the accusation heavy in them and in her voice. 

"My sister, the Valkyrie, Lenneth. What have you done to her?!" She had to lean against the wall for support, a frightening thought going through her mind. Was Lenneth's blood that which coursed through Brahms' veins at the moment? Had Silmeria's own sister's blood been what had been tempting her to take a drink? Silmeria thought that she might be ill, and wondered if it was possible for a vampire to vomit.

"Ah Lenneth." A faint twist of his lips, more smirk than smile. It made her want to slap him in an attempt to wipe that expression off of his face. "She fought valiantly on your behalf. But she was no match for me."

"And just what was her fate then?" Silmeria asked, knowing her skin had grown even paler because of her fright and her worry.

"Fear not, Silmeria." Brahms’ tone of voice was hardly reassuring. "I did not kill her. Nor did I allow any of my people to touch her." She closed her eyes then, her relief making her dizzy. "Your sister still lives. I dare say she has returned to Asgard, and reported the happenings of your abduction."

"You spared her in order to taunt my King?" Silmeria guessed, completely incredulous. 

"I spared her because I knew that it would displease you if I had killed your most favorite of sisters." He countered. Her eyes snapped open at that, the rage in them boiling over into her words.

"You think one life spared can make up for all the deaths your kind have caused on that day!?" She demanded. "The countless einherjar who have died, the valkyries who accompanied us that were slain?!"

"Necessary deaths." Brahms retorted. "They stood in the way of what I wanted." His eyes narrowed, Brahms stepping towards her. "And Silmeria, I ALWAYS take what I want."

She turned to avoid his hand's caress on her cheek, Silmeria instead stalking over to the window. With a perceptive interest, she noted how the window hadn’t been barred, though arcane symbols had been carved into the glass. She was no wizard to know what those symbols meant, but Silmeria could feel the power of the spell’s magic.

"I wouldn't advise trying to leave that way." Came Brahms' voice from behind her. "The windows have been enchanted to keep a vampire confined within these walls."

"So I am nothing more than your prisoner.…"

"Oh, you are so much more than that." Brahms answered. Again he tried to touch her, attempting to lay his hands on her shoulders. "You are my everything."

"I am nothing to you." Silmeria retorted, moving away from him. "It's best you accept that."

"Never." Brahms answered. She held back a sigh, annoyed by his stubborn and delusional response. "It's not so bad..." The woman had turned at that, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "To be a vampire." Before Silmeria could angrily retort, Brahms was continuing. "You no longer feel the pain of your injuries."

She considered that briefly, noting there wasn't even a faint lingering of pain. It was as though she had never been injured, Silmeria able to do the most exaggerated of movements with complete ease. "It's not worth it." Silmeria answered at last. "I would have gladly endured the pain a million times over to remain as I was." He snorted at that, but he wasn't amused. Neither was she, Silmeria narrowing her eyes at him. "Was this all part of your master plan?"

Brahms looked confused then, Silmeria sighing. "Surely you didn't leave this all up to chance. My injuries were part of your plan to get close to me, to be able to kidnap me. You knew that Odin would send me away if I was no longer able to fight. You were counting on that, weren't you?"

He turned angry then, growling aghast at her. "I would never purposefully do you harm. Especially to that extent."

"But you have!" She countered, but he ignored that.

"What happened on the battlefield was a mistake. It was out of my control, those vampires who so injured you." His look was savage then, the man unsatisfied with those soldier’s actions. "I have personally seen that all involved with harming you have paid. For their transgressions against you, they have died."

"You expect me to be glad for that?" Silmeria asked. He blinked in confusion then. It appeared that he had expected her to at least be happy at that news. "You merely proved what a savage you are, what brutes your entire race is!"

"Silmeria…"

Again she shrugged off his attempt to touch her, Silmeria still so rightfully angry. "Don't! Don't call me that! You have no right to my name...to the intimacy it implies."

"But I will use it all the same." Brahms retorted. "You are mine Silmeria. Do not ever forget that."

"You think making me into your own kind grants you ownership over me?" She demanded, hands fisting on her hips. 

"You do not yet understand the ways of the vampires. I am not just your husband…"

"Husband?!" She scoffed.

"I am your sire as well." Brahms continued without pause. "That implies certain rights, though I do not intend to force them on you. I will wait for you to love me back."

"Love you back? That will never happen!" She retorted, dismayed by his calm smile. "You will learn first hand how difficult it is to gain the heart and soul of a Valkyrie."

"You are Valkyrie no more." Brahms reminded her. "You are a vampire, and first and foremost a woman. I think it will not be so difficult to awaken the heart with which you buried under your warrior's armor."

"You...you..." She was near speechless with anger, annoyed at his unshakable confidence. "Arrogant, overbearing…"

"You must be hungry." Brahms interrupted smoothly. His fingers went to his neck, clawing over one of the scratches to cause the worst of it's bleeding. "Come. It would give me immense satisfaction to see to this need of yours."

She seethed with her anger, the rage upon her as Silmeria then turned her back on him. It was brave and it was bold, that refusal of hers a clear cut message that was apparent by her actions. "I will not feed." Silmeria announced. "Never will I do such a distasteful act."

"You didn't find it so distasteful mere minutes ago." Brahms reminded her, and she flushed then with embarrassment. "You were seconds away from taking my neck." 

"That would have been a mistake." Silmeria hissed. "I was confused and disoriented, half out of my mind. It won't be repeated."

"You have not yet known true hunger." Brahms stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back as he then grabbed at her arms to hold and keep her in place. "But mark my words Silmeria. Someday soon you will. And when that happens, the call of blood will be undeniable, even to you." 

"I will truly be damned then." She was sad then, not even attempting to struggle against his imprisoning hold.

"Not damned. But blessed. It will be the moment that your new life has truly begun…"

She said nothing to that, Silmeria keeping her own private council with her own thoughts. The former Valkyrie knew that her sisters would be coming for her. She also knew that they wouldn't be able to revert the transformation that had been forced onto her. Her life was truly lost, forfeited the moment Brahms had forced his blood down her throat. But there was still a chance for her soul's salvation. If she could only hold out long enough for Lenneth and Hrist to come, to end her life before she fed off of some innocent, she would be freed from this torment. She just had to keep from feeding, no matter how hungry she got, or how long it would take for her sisters to come to her rescue.

But the strong smell of Brahms' blood perfumed the air around her, her nostrils flaring to take in that appetizing scent. Silmeria wondered if salvation wasn't already denied to her. When already the blood held such a temptation to her, Silmeria wondering just how much worse could it get as the nights each passed. She just didn’t know, Silmeria shivering as the woman acknowledged to herself that she would have to call upon all of her inner reserves of strength. Maybe then and only then would she stand a chance at resisting the vampire Brahms, and the blood that he tempted her with. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I would like to thank my friend Huntress for her input and valuable advice. She holds my hands during these Brahms Silmeria chapters, where I am so uncertain with this paring. She also read the flashback part, and made suggestions that had me rewrite the begginning, so that it flowed better. And helped me when I got stuck on Brahms answer to "How could you?" So thanks very much dear! This chapter might not have finished if not for you! *hugs*
> 
> 9/14/2017 Updated it with a few thousand words. Good Lord was this chapter an all day project. @_@
> 
> 9/15/2017 Revamped the earlier draft. (it was BAD.) Ended up an even bigger word count. Dies and goes to bed
> 
> Michelle


	6. Six

There was no peace in her heart, no peace and no quiet for her soul, Lenneth falling into Odin’s enchanted slumber, and being plagued by the uncertain. By the doubts and the fear, Lenneth’s mind overtaken with the thoughts that focused near unwavering on that of her younger sister, Silmeria.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There wasn’t supposed to be anything felt while under the Valkyrie’s forced slumber. By all rights, Lenneth should have been at ease, neither dreams, nightmares, nor memories, able to disturb her. Her mind should have been blessedly empty, Odin’s enchantment working it’s magic to strip Lenneth of her defiance, her strength, and her free will. In many a way she should have been reborn anew, a total clean slate for the love that would be forced upon Lenneth at her awakening. 

None of that had happened, not even the small mercy that should have freed the Valkyrie maiden from her thoughts. The recollection that she still had, Lenneth not so much dreaming as reliving the events that had led up to this punishment a thousand times over. She would see the faces of the slaughtered, that of the Valkyries and the chosen few einherjar who had been entrusted to her command. She’d remember Gwendolyn and Jacqueline’s screams, and the sound of flesh tearing, the greedy hungry gulps of many a throat working, and the smacking of lips against too wet skin. 

Most of all, it was the thought of Silmeria, thoughts of the woman’s fate that had been a result of Lenneth’s spectacular failure. Lenneth was haunted by the idea of that, by the knowledge of just what her mistakes had led Silmeria into becoming. She was tormented, Lenneth knowing that she should have been faster and stronger, SMARTER somehow. Her sister had paid the price for Lenneth’s short comings in that moment, Silmeria taken. 

Sometimes the Valkyrie saw Silmeria as she had once been. The strong and the confidant Goddess, the able bodied and capable warrior. Dressed in full Valkyrie regalia, Silmeria was often seated at the head of an army. Such a striking image of what had once been, Lenneth still couldn’t keep the memories from then turning dark, from showing her sister out on the battle field. This vision of Silmeria was not as Lenneth had known her, the Valkyrie’s indigo armor gone. Dressed in dark shrouds of crimson, Silmeria’s deathly pale skin had only stood out starkerr against the blood colored rags. And then it would hit her, Lenneth realizing that the shredded gown had once been colored a snow white, the blood of Silmeria’s many victims having soaked into and changed the very nature of the fabric.

Lenneth’s mind had tried to deny this sight, tried to make up some feeble excuse as to what she was seeing. No blade and no bow besides her, Silmeria herself had become a grim parody of the undead, her teeth and those ungodly claws the weapon of choice that had attacked and killed so many. Her very lips stained a vivid red from the innocents she had slaughtered and fed upon, Silmeria’s eyes had flashed a crimson accusation at her sister.

Holy sword then appearing in her hand, Lenneth had STILL hesitated to strike down her sister. She had looked at the soulless monster that Silmeria had become, the undead nightmare that would be the death of countless others, and she could not do it. Lenneth couldn’t bring herself to put an end to the creature who had once been her sister. That completed Lenneth’s failure, Silmeria and the nine realms’ many inhabitants doomed to die at the former Valkyrie’s hands. 

It was her fears manifested to extremes, Lenneth frightened by both the reality and the what ifs that continued to plague her. Maybe it would always torment her. Maybe Lenneth would always be haunted not just by her failures, but by the fact she hadn’t been able to personally put Silmeria to the sword. She hadn’t even been given the chance, Odin stripping the right to that duty from her. Just as he had stripped everything else from Lenneth, the one time Valkyrie now made human and cursed to know the love of the man who would one day awaken her.

Something very much like tears had then pricked at her eyes, Lenneth feeling overwhelmed by the situation. By the helplessness of her fate, and by the sight of Silmeria at her absolute worst. Lenneth’s soul actually cried out in pain, the Valkyrie maiden herself taking a step towards her sister. “I am sorry!” Lenneth would say, openly weeping. Was she desperate for an absolution? For a forgiveness that Lenneth would never dare give to herself? “I couldn’t save you.” Lenneth would finally acknowledge, the sword falling free of fingers that had now gone limp.

A wail of agony like Lenenth had never thought to ever hear had then escaped her, the woman falling to her knees. Her eternal torment, that agony, had increased by droves, Lenneth now knowing the ultimate in despair at Silmeria’s agreeing nod. Such was the effect on her mind, that Lenneth would often forget this was nothing more than a dream. A nightmare that was grounded in the basis of truth. Gripped by this hellish reality, Lenneth was caught in an endless loop, of agony and of regret, of her failure and of her heartache. 

Her mind tortured her with the countless what ifs, Lenneth was frozen and helpless, unable to do much of anything save scream. She’d watch as Silmeria attacked innocents, as the humans fell victim to her claws and to her teeth. Other times the nightmare would take them back to the Plains of Idavoll, where Brahms was out and about, fighting alongside his new bride. Together the pair would attack Silmeria’s one time people, ripping apart Valkyrie and einherjar alike. Silmeria would feed on the very Asgardians who had once been her allies, Such things would be repeated, Lenneth bearing witness to an unending slaughter that spread throughout the nine realms. Until finally with an unholy fury burning in those crimson eyes, Silmeria had then turned on her own sister.

Lenneth had screamed out in pain then, the agitated state of her mind, the agony of Silmeria’s imagined future, driving the Valkyrie to cry out for real. Lenneth was trapped in a realm of unending nightmares and torment, completely unable to fight free. Not on her own. Not without the kiss of her soon to be husband. That man should have spurred even more nightmares to life, Lenneth not wanting to lose herself to him. To the kiss that would strip away her very identity, to the love that would remake her into ANY man’s ideal wife.

No idea of the who or of what kind of man Odin would deem suitable for his failure of a Valkyrie, Lenneth had a very real reason to be afraid for herself. That man could be cruel, and he could be abusive, ready to hurt her in so many ways. He could demean and debase her, Odin’s love enchantment such that Lenneth would gladly submit and surrender to just about anything. Her mind wouldn’t even know enough to protest, to recognize the right and the wrong of it. 

Despite all this, Lenneth could only stay caught in the grip of fear for her sister. For Silmeria’s soul. Those few conscious times when Lenneth realized that she was dreaming, would have the Valkyrie maiden praying for her sister Hrist’s success. For the dark haired Valkyrie to not only kill Silmeria, but to do it quickly enough to save the young woman’s very soul. 

Time against them all, Lenneth’s sleep was not anywhere peaceful to those that watched over her. Locked in that nightmare, screaming inside of her own mind, sometimes Lenneth would cry out for real. Other times silent tears would fall from beneath her closed eyes, her cheek’s skin slick and flushed with the Valkyire’s unnerving upset.

The enchanted sleep was meant to be peaceful. It was anything but for Lenneth, the woman exhausted by her dreams. With the agony of a countless millennia lived out in her nightmares, Lenneth had not a single bit of idea as to what was actually going on around her. She was simply unaware of what if anything was happening in the world that existed outside of her tortured mind. Asleep for it, Lenneth had no way of knowing that time itself was passing, many days upon days marking her body’s travel. That untold amount was spread out over vast distances, the journey to Lenenth’s new home a long one.

Just as she had no awareness of time and distance, the physical sensations of the journey were lost to her as well. Lenneth had felt not a thing, nothing from the many bumps of an unpaved road jarring against the carriage’s wheels, or to the hands that touched upon her in concern. She felt not the washcloth that touched upon her skin, or how her armor had been stolen away. She felt not even the difference in fabrics, the clothing upon her, the cushions beneath her. Frozen in that enchanted slumber, Lenneth did not even feel the physical needs of her body, the magic such that the woman was in a state of total hibernation.

There had been no way to fight this, no way to keep this unnatural slumber from taking her over. Lenneth had been damned to it the moment that Odin’s potion had touched on her tongue, the sleep overtaking her just as a scream had sounded. The voice had been that of her sister, Hrist, the woman angry, maybe even frightened. Lenneth would never know just who that shout had truly been for, the Valkyrie falling, already asleep long before her body hit upon the floor.

Once in the eternity that was her suffering, Lenneth would have a real moment. A thought where she didn’t think about her failures, that she didn’t worry for her sister, Silmeria. Those brief bits of time never lasted long enough, Lenneth left to wonder if she would ever awaken from her enchantment. Paranoia sometimes crept in with such a thought, Lenneth fearing that THIS was the true punishment. The torture of not knowing, of never learning of just how Silmereia’s fate had played out. Maybe this sleep would be upon her for forever, forcing Lenneth to endlessly relive all of her failures and her fears. 

Awake or asleep, which would be better? Which would be worst? Was the agony of her mind truly fitting punishment enough? More so than humiliation of being tied in love to some random stranger? To be his property, made devoted and loyal, her affection and her obedience stolen rather than earned? Would she have found ANY man worthy of her heart? Neither fate was palpable, not as a punishment and not as a duty.

Wishing that she had fought both Brahms AND Odin harder, the helpless feeling Valkyrie almost wished she HAD died. Better Odin’s potion be poison than this hell, this sleep AND the reality that it’s magic would make her a slave of. This time when Lenneth cried, it was tears for herself, the liquid born of her frustration over the hopelessness of those fates. 

The sadness on her face, a sob caught in her throat, Lenneth did not even register when a strong pair of arms lifted her into their embrace. The enchanted sleep had left her body absolutely pliant, Lenneth easily cradled against a chest. She was asleep for even this, someone carrying the woman into her new home. It wouldn’t be that long after, that her enchantment was then broken, Lenneth finally starting to stir. It wasn’t an immediate awakening, no sharp and no sudden a gasp to herald it. Even the dark horrors of her mind tried to still linger, that unholy vision of Silmeria the last and the strongest to fall to the dawning awareness of her surroundings.

As Silmeria faded away, the sounds and the smells, and even the physical sensations all began to filter in. The sounds were among the first wave of outside stimulation, a quiet kind of murmur that was nothing like what the Valkyrie had been used to hearing. It was different from the noise that had always inhabited around the castle, Valhalla, the battlefield and it’s distant roar, that of the angry and the dying screams and the sounds of metal clanging, having permeated near permanent across the vast expanse that was the Plains of Idavoll. It was war that she was used to, the fighting, the sights of it, the smells, and especially the sounds. Anything else was foreign and unwelcome, Lenneth confused by this odd kind of silence. So quiet was this place that Lenneth could actually hear the sound of a songbird’s chirping.

She processed the information that came with the sound, Lenneth understanding it had to be daylight for this species of bird to be up and about. However strangeness abounded with that bird’s presence, Lenneth wondering why she did not hear any other birds chirping. It couldn’t be the fault of the voices, those soft and occasional murmurs of people that passed by so near to her. Most of their voices were too soft and too muffled, Lenneth unable to make out clearly any of the words. Hushed though they were, there was no disguising the sound of a woman’s giggle.

Lenneth couldn’t help herself, she frowned, so surprised and taken aback by that giggle. Laughter of any kind was such a strange, foreign sound to Lenneth, the unending war that had plagued the heavens leaving little to smile about. To the Gods and the Goddesses, to the einherjar, and especially to the Valkyries. Always so serious and intent on their duties, Lenneth could not remember a time when she and her sisters had had a real reason to laugh. Especially not so happily, with such joy infusing the voice and the heart.

Lenneth might have tried to lose herself to a memory of just exactly when she had heard either one of her sisters’ last laugh, if not for the feel of something—someone TOUCHING her. In an overly familiar manner that was absolutely foreign to the Valkyrie, with hands that were not like any she had ever felt. Softer somehow, and lacking the callouses that came with the handling of a weapon, these hands spoke of the life of privilege that this person had led. It was more than that. This person, whoever HE was, had never known anything of hardship or that of traditional work. Luxury was the life that these hands were used to, everything from their home’s surrounding, to whatever it was that they actually did. 

With a frown of disapproval, Lenneth tried to stir awake enough to open her eyes. They were still too, too heavy, and the rest of her wasn’t faring much better. Her limbs didn’t want to move, a weight upon them that helped to keep her down. The soft mattress at her back, the plump pillow beneath her head, both worked to seduce her back into sleep. It was the hands that kept her grounded, that kept Lenneth from slipping back into the enchanted slumber. It was HIS fingers that shockingly gripped firm hold of the bare part of one of her arms.

She wasn’t that used to being touched, especially by a man. To feel him so near to her, his hand on her exposed skin? It wasn’t just shocking, it was alarming. Her apprehension made her stir, Lenneth struggling the rest of the way awake. Even as her eyelids quivered, even as she fought to draw in a breath, Lenneth became aware of more and more things in regard to the man. Such as the fact that it was HIS warmth on her, a firm, insistent pressure placed against her lips. That firm feel had her gasping, Lenneth unprepared for her first kiss. Or for the sensations that followed, the tongue that not only licked over her lips but past them, the man taking from Lenneth a deeply thorough taste.

His lips remained a constant on hers, his eager mouth an unyielding, physical manifestation of his desires. She felt every tremor, tasted the very excitement from him. Smelt it, that faint bit of spice, that foreign undercurrent of a man. Clean smelling, but holding a whisper of something, something beyond his choice of soap. In many ways it reminded her of the God’s use of ether, but Lenneth couldn’t place WHY.

Confused by it, by him, Lenneth’s alarm only ratcheted skywards, finding there was a hand creeping in between her and the mattress. Fingers touched at the small of her back, Lenneth reacting. Arching up to get away from them, her body only ended up pressed against his. She might have almost panicked then, Lenneth realizing that the man was somehow on top of her. Such a delicate position was far too intimate to be allowed, Lenneth finding the strength at last to lift up her arms. 

With a push of her hands, with a snapping open of her eyes, Lenneth then jolted completely awake, finding a fitful sound was escaping from her throat. New feelings and sensations assaulted her, the provocative glide of her body against his, the soft whisper of fabric rustling, some light gauzy material brushing a reaction into the very tips of her breasts. There was expensive silk against the palm of her hand, a kingdom’s wealth upon his shoulders. That only helped confirm Lenneth’s earlier assessment that this man was a being well acquainted with luxury.

As she pushed at his shoulders, Lenneth tried to reel back against the bed. He wasn’t fully on top of her, the man more twisted and bent over from a sitting position besides her. It left her with only his torso to contend with, his torso and those ever so ardent lips, the soft smack of them against hers a downright suffocating pressure. Lenneth felt light headed from the kisses, her entire world spinning around dizzily. If she hadn’t already been laying down, her knees would have buckled for sure, Lenneth desperately inhaling. With it came his longing sigh, the fingers on her back trying to stroke reassurance against her skin. Rigid in response, Lenneth voiced her displeasure, a deep grumbling sound that might have almost pass for a snarl. It was that sound that the man reacted to, the kiss slowly breaking, as he let her shove at him one last time. Lenneth found herself not only breathing heavily, but blinking rapidly in response. In that precise moment, red faced with anger, and thinking her hands the only thing that might keep him back, Lenneth looked up into his eyes. That deep amethyst color, so dark with his arousal, seemed to pierce Lenneth from deep within. Her lips parted on an unvoiced gasp, the enchantment trying to take hold of her heart. An entire rush of overwhelming feelings went through her then, their leash tightening around her as Odin’s spell tried to force Lenneth to love this man.

She attempted to fight it, Lenneth refusing to melt for him, for ANY man, so completely. The beat beat beat of her heart thundered in her ears, an unfamiliar, unwanted, unneeded ache birthing inside her. Warmth filled her cheeks, and her eyelids fluttered, Lenneth’s hands no longer trying to push the man away. She was simply there, touching him, but the man didn’t press the advantage. Those soft feelings now inside her, Lenneth had to fight to harden herself against them. Against him, the woman withdrawing her hands from his shoulders, so that Lenneth could instead dig her own nails into her palm. 

A sharp pain spiked within her at that, Lenneth having pressed hard enough to break flesh. She didn’t care, the pain such that it helped to clear her mind of the troubling feelings that were being forced upon her. To hold back the worst of her love, Lenneth feeling it’s ache in her breast, the enchantment still keeping a tight hold on her. She pushed it back, but not enough, Lenneth aware of the man, of the uncharacteristic attention that she was paying to the most striking of his features.

His eyes, that bright blaze of color, that vivid jewel like shade, the amethyst, were a stark expression of sexual intensity. She shivered under that focus, Lenneth caught by the beauty of his gaze, and the heated emotion within it. Nothing could detract from that beauty, from that or the look that he was giving her. A passionate reverence, a look of such immense longing, that Lenneth could almost think that this man was the one affected by the enchantment.

She had no experience with kisses, and even less so with passion. Lenneth simply wasn’t used to being looked at as a sexual being, as a person to be desired. It made her face grow hotter yet, Lenneth trying to look away, to look down. His hand on her cheek stopped her, Lenneth’s eyes darting upwards. This time when she looked into his eyes, Lenneth noticed that her face was reflected in that jewel like gaze. It might as well have been that of a stranger, the blush on her cheeks, and the startled look of her eyes not anything that belonged on the face of a proud warrior maiden.

The enchantment at fault for the change in her demeanor, Lenneth found a dozen compulsions birthing to life inside her. Her fingers itched with the desire to touch him, to caress over his pale skin. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss, the compulsion urging her to press her mouth to his for yet another. She positively yearned to feel his body’s weight on her, to feel the press of his flesh against hers. Lenneth even wanted to stroke fingers through his hair, to add further to the rakish mess it was already styled in.

Other desires were upon her, unspeakable passions bringing to life the parts of her that were the most female in nature. THAT unsettled her the most, Lenneth fighting against that needy ache, her thighs pressing firmly together to stem the flow of a tide within her. Again her nails dug into her flesh, Lenneth fighting against the compulsions, against every last one of them. She almost looked away from him then, but the part of her that still remembered being a Valkyrie first and foremost was suspicious.

It was the Valkyrie in her that insisted that this man was her enemy. That this man was her punishment. But more than that, Lenneth instincts screamed at her to remain wary, to not leave an opening for him to get into her heart, or into her bed. That steel determination flashed in her eyes, Lenneth staring at her opponent with an icy cold glare. She still felt the enchantment, still felt it’s pull like a whisper in her ear, urging Lenneth to pull this man down on top of her. She actually trembled with her need, with the desire to kiss him, with a violent want to do more than just kiss. Lenneth barely managed to stop herself from opening her arms in invite, the Valkyrie not wanting to fall in love with this man.

As she fought the compulsion, she tried to focus on other things. Tried to notice something beyond the opponent in front of her. He was all that she could see, all that consumed her, Lenneth instead noticing other details about him. Like the fact his hair was colored so dark a brown as to resemble the sweet chocolate that Lenneth had sometimes favored on occasion. Or how his gold pane glasses complimented similar flecks of that color in the center of his eyes. 

Those eyes did a slow blinking, the man betraying his shock at the venomous look that Lenneth was trying to keep giving him. It was clear that he hadn’t expected any sort of defiance, and in truth, Lenneth wasn’t sure how she was managing what little she had left. She could feel it wavering in her heart, the ache there going from soft to hard and then back again. It affected her, played havoc with Lenneth’s mind, body and her emotions, the woman again trying to push the man away from her.

A tilt of his head in response, the man still bent over her with that intent look on his face. He wasn’t trying to kiss her, wasn’t trying to do anything more than study her face in turn. The look in his eyes had brightened to a curious kind of wonder, his lips crooking in a sort of half smile. She tried to maintain her glare, but that half smile was her undoing, Lenneth unable to keep from noticing how soft and sensually shaped his mouth now appeared to be. 

The feel of his kiss branded onto her, Lenenth’s mouth trembled with it’s own need, the woman licking nervously at her swollen lips. The man took that as an invite, pressing into her staying hand. Lenneth first gasped in protest, and then instinct took over, the Valkyrie shoving hard. With that near violent push, Lenneth managed to topple him off and away from her. She slid on the bed in the process, hearing fabrics rustle and feeling the glide of them against her skin. Lenneth then practically threw herself off of the bed, pleased that her legs were stable enough to support her steps away from the man.

Legs strong and sure, it was the skirt that nearly brought her down. The very heavy skirt that fell down nearly past her ankles, Lenneth actually tripping over it’s length. This was no Valkyries' uniform, no lightweight skirt made for battle. This was some velvet and silk contraption, all frills and lace that molded tightly to her waist. She felt confined in it, noting the skirts even trailed out behind her, ever ready to snag on any and all inconvenient outcroppings.

As annoyed as she was with the dress, Lenneth was still intent on the man. The room itself remained a mystery, Lenneth managing to get only the briefest of impressions. That of open windows and a closed door, that of a cage that held the songbird that she must have had heard singing earlier. The little creature continued with an excited chirping of it’s voice, flapping it’s small wings in the cramp confines of it’s cage. But nothing that the bird tried, could set it free, the sweet tiny creature remaining as trapped as Lenneth herself now felt.

That comparison made was almost bitter, Lenneth fighting Odin’s enchantment, and the effect that this man was having on her as a result. He had stood up off the bed seconds after her push. Lenneth was tensed for a fight, not sure what else to expect from him. Would he hurt her, would he try to force her any more than he had already done? 

Right now he seemed content to do nothing, instead turning to just study her. There was no mistaking the surprised look in his eyes, the man cocking his head to the side in response to the defensive posture of his bride to be. A long silence followed that look, the only sound in the room that of the bird’s excited flapping and it’s high pitched squeaks. It reacted as though it knew of the tension in the room, as though it was mirroring the unease that was in Lenneth’s heart. 

Such was the upset beating of her conflicted heart that Lenneth at first didn’t understand the words of the man’s voice speaking to her. But there was no missing that sound, that rich throaty purr of a voice that made Lenneth’s insides quiver and cramp with need. This voice wasn’t just commanding, it was sexy, holding a distinct accent to it. She couldn’t place it, couldn’t get her mind to work past the compulsion enough to think of just where he might have come from. But Lenneth wanted to hear it again, wanted to listen to the man speak in that velvety voice all day and night long. 

It didn’t matter what he had to say, just so long as he kept on talking, the love compulsion would be satisfied. That soothing, charismatic tone didn’t lose one ounce of it’s charm, not even when the man’s comment made Lenneth’s blood run cold.

“Lord Odin boasted that there was no coming back from his enchantments. No fighting it’s hold." Was that disappointment that he was voicing, or was the man merely marveling at her strengths? Lenneth wasn’t entirely sure, the only certain thing that she did know was that even with that possible disappointment, he still sounded sinful, that voice trying to lull her into a false sense of security. But no voice could sound THAT nice, the compulsion surely at work here. It’s enchantment wasn’t just trying to make her fall in love with this man, it was trying to drive her to distraction, making everything about him seem wonderful and worth admiring. 

“Lenneth?” Her name was the sweetest of sighs on his lips, the man looking concerned. He’d repeat her name, that questioning look alight in his eyes, but he also made no real move towards her. Instead he waited patiently for her answer. 

The chains of love trying to tighten around her, Lenneth feared that too big a distraction would settle the love spell all the more firmly on her. She shook her head to fight it’s effect, to shake free of her more affectionate thoughts. Instead of being flattered that he already knew her name, Lenneth chose to be angry, letting the displeasure of it sound off in her voice.

“You know my name.’ She said. “But I know NOT of you.”

Another steady blink of his eyes, that amethyst gaze never wavering from her. Not even when the man began a slow, respectful bow, the man begging for her forgiveness. “Ah forgive me.” He said, and Lenneth fought her blush, the compulsion leaving her far too pleased by this simple show of his regard. "My name is Lezard Valeth. I am Lord of this castle."

His name a whispering echo in her mind, Lenneth swore the enchantment only grew stronger. She could barely think to ask questions, let alone speak most of them out loud. Who was he, and why had Odin deemed him a suitable punishment? But those words wouldn’t form, Lenneth instead stating, “It was you that broke my sleep.”

The man, this Lezard, nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. Lenneth found herself frowning, the words all wooden on her tongue. “That means you are to be my husband.” The statement came out flatly, and if Lezard took offense to her tone he did not show it, instead smiling brightly at her. 

"That I am." Came his agreement. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." He was already stepping towards her, hand reaching to take hold of hers. She didn't let Lezard complete the action, Lenneth sidestepping him with a purposeful avoidance.

“I cannot lay claim to feeling that same pleasure.” The words cold and haughty, the truth didn’t entirely run through them. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the spell trying to seduce Lenenth into liking everything about Lezard, and that included the situation that she now found herself in. It still couldn’t quell the resentment that lived on inside her, but that anger was tempered somewhat by Lezard himself. Gratitude birthed inside her, Lenneth relieved to note that this man wasn’t trying to pursue or persist in touching her.

With his eyes meeting hers, the man used the same hand that had reached out towards Lenneth, to instead run fingers against his own scalp. It upset the balance of his bangs, brown hair falling messily in place over an eye. Again it was her fingers that itched, Lenneth fighting the impulse to approach him and set to rights his hair. Her fingers instead curled against her palm, Lenneth taking comfort in the pain that sparked at her nails’s pressing touch.

“I must admit, this situation is not exactly like I had imagined.” Her voice strangled inside her, a rude kind of scoffing sound escaping Lenneth at Lezard’s words. 

“I’ll just bet it isn’t.” The enchantment couldn’t keep the words from sounding sharp, Lenneth almost birthing to life bitterness as she thought and remembered just how she had been awakened. The touch that had been upon her, the liberties that this Lezard had taken. The heat of that memory, brought color to vivid life on her skin, Lenneth upset and unable to hide it. It was the enchantment at work again, the spell such that if it couldn’t make her love him, it would instead settle for exposing Lenneth’s every secret to him.

If Lezard was offended by her tone, by the upset in her eyes, he did not show it. His fingers stopped their almost skittish play against his scalp, the man letting out a sigh. “I was well aware that this type of situation is not one most Valkyries can enjoy.”

“Then you understand, right?” The enchantment tried to stop her, tried to lessen the impact of the words that Lenneth then delivered. “I do not love you.” She said. “Nor do I WANT to.”

There was a quick blinking of his eyes, but other than that betrayal of expression, Lezard showed no other reaction. Again she wondered if he was disappointed, the enchantment looping chains about her heart, almost making Lenneth want to reach out to him. The urge to comfort versus the necessity of being cruel waged battle inside her, Lenneth making fists at her side, as she leveled him with another stare.

“I also have NO desire to be HERE.” It wasn’t outright cruel, but neither was Lenneth in any way prepared to feign at enthusiasm over the situation her failure had put her in. Her voice didn’t waver, Lenneth pleased at the strong, determined sound of it that was mismatched against the conflict going on inside her.

“It took a King’s decree to bring you here.” His looked had turned serious, the man still staring at her. “”I am under no delusions when it comes to your wants and desires. Of that you can be assured of.”

She wasn’t happy with that, Lenneth not liking nor needing the reminder of the fate Odin had decided for her. The punishment, Lenneth’s failure such that she had not been given a single courtesy or choice. It wasn’t just that she had been given away, that the woman had been stripped of her godhood, that Lenneth had been denied the chance to try and set right her sister, Silmeria’s fate. It was ALL of it, and it was him, Lenneth wondering just how much Lezard knew of the situation. Did he know of why she had been chosen, or why she had been brought here? Did Lezard have any idea of why HE had been chosen in turn, why Odin had deemed him a fitting punishment for Lenneth’s failure? Such questions only brought with them a sharp pang to her heart, Odin’s love enchantment working to poison her line of thought, to force on her a love that would strip away any and all other concerns. Nothing would remain of Lenneth then, nothing but a slavish devotion to this Lezard.

The pain of her nails tearing at her skin had Lenneth making a sound before she could stop herself. The Valkyrie’s lips then thinned into a flat line, the woman hardly happy with this betraying sign of the inner struggle that waged on inside her. Without even realizing it, she then breathed better, Lenneth free of some of the worst of her suffocating emotions, when the man, when Lezard, glanced away from her face. 

“You’re hurting yourself.” His eyes were trained on one of her hands, Lenenth realizing that she had done enough damage for thin trickles of blood to have seeped out past her clenched fingers. Lenneth opened her mouth, prepared to tell this Lezard that she was fine, when he LOOKED at her once more. That amethyst gaze stole all protests from her, Lenneth almost numb inside, as the man approach her, the lacy white cravat at his throat being unraveled, and pressed against her injured palm.

It was such a soft gentle touch, a reverence that left Lenenth shaken, the woman actually trembling in place at Lezard’s hands. She was held frozen by the look in his eyes, by the feel of that exquisite cloth of the cravat being wound about her hand. Lenneth wouldn’t be entirely free of the spell, until Lezard glanced down to knot the cravat into it’s place, and then all of her upset flooded forward, her anger over the helplessness of her situation wanting an outlet of it’s own.

“I KNOW what my King has commanded of me.” She told Lezard, quickly biting out the words before he could look up at her with that beautifully colored gaze. “I will not do him OR you an insult, by refusing to do my sworn duty. But neither will I take any pleasure from it.”

Combatant as she was, there was still a melting of the iciest recesses of her heart, Lenneth taken back by the sight of Lezard’s smile. What began as a slight quirking of his lips bloomed outright into a confidant expression, the man hardly bothered by Lenneth’s bluster and bravado.

“Well you certainly do look upon your duty with resignation.” A curt nod was all that she could manage, the only answer she could give expression to in the moment. “But I think that you will be surprised at just WHAT you can enjoy from a union with me.”

That seducing tone, that self satisfied curving of that sensual mouth, and the look of dark promise in Lezard’s eyes, all had Lenneth reacting. She FELT the blush on her cheeks, even as her eyebrows raised with her expressed disbelief, Lenenth ill at ease with Lezard’s smug overconfidence. “Oh? Are you THAT sure of yourself?”

“Quite.”

A harsh sound escaped her, a hoarse bit of laughter that wasn’t as full of contempt as Lenneth would have liked. “You are both arrogant and overconfident.”

“Is it arrogant to to think that I could make you happy?” Lezard wanted to know. “Is it overconfidence or just my deepest desire and hope that you could learn to like it here? Is it selfish to want my bride to be able to thrive in her new life?”

She wanted to scream at him then. Lenneth wanted to rail against Lezard and her fate, against the unfair injustice that had been done to her and her sisters. Most of all, Lenneth wanted to cry out in protest, hating that Lezard had expressed a desire that he hoped would one day find her HAPPY.

“You know NOTHING of me.” Lenneth finally settled on hissing. “Not of who I am, not of who I was. You know nothing of my life, of my wants, of my needs. It is absolutely preposterous for you to even think to try. You can’t make a woman like me happy, a woman you just met, a woman you do not love and who does not love you!” 

Her heart fluttered in protest at all that she was saying, and at the sight of his smile fading, the light in his amethyst eyes somehow now dimmed. Lenneth braced herself for a complete and total change in his demeanor, half expecting Lezard to strike her for her impudence. 

“Are you quite finished?” He then asked her, and no real emotion had leaked into his voice with that inquiry. She wondered how that could be, how Lezard could possibly rein so tight a control over his anger and disdain, his cold disappointments.

“For now.” Lenneth answered with a stiff nod.

“Then allow me to offer up a countering view.” He had let go of her hand during the worst of her anger, but he hadn’t once cowered before it. His eyes took took on a determined sheen, Lezard staring at her as he spoke the following. “It’s true that we have just met, that you do not love me. Neither one of us knows much about the other, not our likes, wants and desires. But Lenneth? We can LEARN.” There it was, that off putting smile, that sensual expression that held the promise of wicked intentions. Lezard’s determined look did not waver, the man stepping forward to close any distance Lenneth might have tried to put between them. She couldn’t stand her ground, but neither could Lenneth yield to him, the woman watching with suspicion as Lezard extended out his arm and his hand to her. 

“We can take as much time as you need.” He added. “We needn’t rush this….”

She didn’t take his hand, but neither did Lenneth find the strength and disdain to slap his arm away. Instead Lenneth looked into his eyes, into the hope that she saw blooming dark in the amethyst color. The astonishment eased away some of her tension, Lenneth searching his expression of any sign of deceit. 

“You are not...eager to consummate this union?” She inquired, waiting for the lie. So braced was she for it, that at first Lenneth didn’t comprehend the words that were actually spoken.

“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t.”

She nearly gaped astonishment at him, his blunt honesty such that she was torn in her feelings over the truth that Lezard had just admitted to. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the magic wanting Lenneth to be flattered regardless of the fact that Lezard’s admitted desire upset her greatly. 

With that push and pull of emotions, with the right and wrong of it inside her, Lezard begrudgingly scored a point with Lenneth’s bespelled heart. It then skipped a beat at the deepening of the man’s smile, Lezard’s eyes taking on a lighthearted sheen that was so at odds with the darker look Lenneth had already acquainted with him.

“I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.” He had then added. She couldn’t believe it, Lenneth’s lips parting on a stunned sound. 

“This whole situation makes me uncomfortable.” She blurted out with that sound. Was it Odin’s love spell, or something else to blame for the words spilling from her? The confidence that she was sharing. “I’m completely out of my element. Not just with these feelings, but with the expectations that might be put on me as a result. I was raised on a battle field, left to toil in war for centuries!" 

His hand had never lowered, Lezard still urging her to take hold of it. “It will take some time and adjustment, of course. But given a chance, you can learn to accept this new life. To not only accept it, but to thrive in it!”

She simply couldn’t believe, couldn’t imagine the future that Lezard himself saw for her. “How?” Lenneth demanded in a plaintive tone. I have no purpose here, no reason to exist…"

“For now, let ME be that reason.” He had finally grown tired of waiting, reaching to clasp hold of her hands with his. “Together we can work to find you your purpose!”

His was an earnest warmth, the looks in his eyes alight with the belief of his hopes. That voice didn’t just whisper promises to her, it made Lenneth want to believe, the Valkyrie nearly caught up in Lezard’s excitement. On some level the woman realized and understood that she NEEDED to try to make the best of things, that for her own peace of mind, Lenneth had to try. That was nearly the tipping point that overcame all her doubts, that understanding working together with Odin’s spell over her heart. Nearly pushed to accepting, at the last possible second, Lenneth managed to fight free of Lezard’s words, and the magic of the enchantment.

Her eyes staring not at Lezard, but at the clasping together of her hands with his, Lenneth all but snarled venom at him. “My King would have me be nothing more than your slave.” She jerked her hands free of him, defiant and wanting to hurt Lezard the way that Lenneth herself had been so hurt. “That is my punishment.” She said. “YOU are my punishment.” The Valkyrie had raised her head as she had announced this, her blue eyes alight with all of her anger. That challenging gaze met his head on, Lenneth almost satisfied to see Lezard looking so shocked. 

He seemed to forget how to breath, to speak, a single, solitary word choked out of him. “Punishment?”!” 

Never taking her eyes from his, Lenneth was almost mocking as she nodded, quirking her eyebrow at him. “Did you not even know?” She asked. “Were you so unaware of the circumstances around your acquisition of a Valkyrie for your bride?” Silent, Lezard could only gape at her as he quickly shook his head no. Lenneth frowned in response, actually sighing out loud. “Then it seems we both enter into this union with little real knowledge to us.” She would have turned her back on him then, if Lenneth wasn’t still so wary, so suspicious of Lezard himself. “I am NOT your typical Valkyrie bride.” She added, none of her agitation having lessened with the announcement.

“Now that I don’t doubt.” He spoke it, but it was such a soft murmur, that Lenneth wasn’t sure that Lezard had meant to be heard. Nor did she allow herself to dwell on just what the man could have meant with such an agreement.

Wanting him to understand her, absolutely needing him to realize and know of the circumstances that had brought Lenneth to him, the Valkyrie found herself confiding to Lezard. “I was not retired from the battlefield due to a physical injury.” Lenneth fought not to close her hand into another fist, the unfairness of her fate, the injustice of it, agitating the Valkyrie further than she already was. “I was still able to fight, still able and willing to stand with Odin's warriors against our enemies." Her temper flared, as did her despair, Lenneth almost hissing in a despondent tone. “Why even now, I should be out on the Plains of Idavoll, leading our einherjar to do battle against the undead...” Once she might have even boasted of the victories her leadership would have guaranteed the soldiers under her command, but Lenneth had not forgotten the slaughter that had happened. The massacre that had befallen valkyrie and einherjar alike, Lenneth remembering the bodies, and that of her sister’s limp form forcibly embraced by the vampire king himself. 

Almost caught by that memory, by her failure, Lenneth startled in place at the sound of Lezard’s soft question. “Then why? What happened to lead Odin to have to punish you?” At her sharp look, and at the pain of her failure echoing not just in her thoughts, but showing on her face, Lezard looked almost contrite. “It’s not too bold of me to ask, is it?” He then wanted to know.

In a way it was exactly that, and yet Lenneth also knew that Lezard deserved to know. Not just of her disgrace, but the reason why it had led to the woman being punished. It didn’t stop the angry look in her eyes, Lenneth downright ruthless as she spoke. “If you are to be my husband, then perhaps you have a right to know.”

Those words, that grudging acceptance, did not make it any easier for Lenneth to speak on her failure. Especially to this man, this stranger, who was to be part of her punishment. The anger and the pain that lanced through her, had Lenneth at last turning her back on Lezard. Let him strike her down for all that she cared, the woman unable to stand being so close to him for any longer. 

With her arms crossing over her breasts, with Lenneth hugging herself for a comfort she could not accept, the woman strode away from Lezard. She would not speak until she was before the cage of the songbird, the woman staring down at the tiny creature who had finally quieted down. As though it too wanted to be privy to her secrets, to her failure.

"Lenneth?" prodded Lezard when she let the silence stretch out for longer than was merited.

“Would it surprise you to know that I was not an only child?” That was how Lenneth chose to start, the woman staring down at the songbird inside it’s metal prison. “My parents were blessed with not two, but three daughters. Hrist was the name of my older sister...” It was impossible to speak of her, to speak of them both without Lenneth conjuring their images to mind. She could almost smile, almost until the images distorted, Lenneth remembering Hrist’s scream, and spying Silmeria as she was fed upon by the vampire Brahms.

“And the youngest?” Lezard voice had urged her to fill in the silence once more.

“My sister Silmeria.” Lenneth answered in a grim tone. She had to extend real effort not to dig her nails into the soft flesh of her arms, all of her fondness and her love for her sisters tainted with the pain that she had come to associate with them over what had happened. “We’ve been at war with the undead for centuries..and there are those older than we, who have been at it for a millennia.”

“The undead...”

“Ghoulish creatures.” Lenneth spoke over him. “Nightmarish monsters all united under the vampire’s rule.”

“Ah yes….I believe the Lord of the Undead is a vampire who goes by the name of Brahms.” There wasn’t many that hadn’t heard that name at least once in their lifetime, and still to hear it spoken by him, by anyone, set Lenneth’s hackles raising.

“Brahms...” She all but growled his name, and this time her nails scratched over the flesh of both of her arms. It was no less than what she had done to the palm of her hand, and yet Lenneth was heedless of the pain, the hurt that she was now causing. “He is obsessed with my sister, Silmeria. Has been for a long time now.”

She heard the soft determined footfalls, spied Lezard’s drawing nearness out of the corner of her eye. “My sister Silmeria was the one who was injured on the battlefield. She was the one due to be retired and wed. All she need to do was wait and be safely delivered to her soon to be husband.”

“What went wrong?” Lezard asked. He was already reaching for her, touching fingers to hers, gently but insistently prying them away from the scratching she had still been doing. She tried to fight him, to at least shrug him off, but Lezard would have none of it. He not only persisted, the man chastised, his spoken reminder inadvertent in the hurt that it brought to her mind. “You are mortal now, Goddess.” He had stated. “Even the smallest of scratches can lead to a deadly infection.”

He had another cloth in his hand, a handkerchief that Lezard had drawn from a spare pocket. It was just as fine a material as the cravat, but made even bloodier from the number Lenneth had done to her arms. She might not have let him tend to her, but his warning earned her grudging acceptance. Though she might not be willing, and certainly not at all happy, Lenneth wouldn’t dishonor her duty as a Valkyrie, and let anything stand in the way of the woman surviving her punishment.

Without even a nodded thanks, Lenneth resumed speaking. “I was to be the head of the party that would escort my sister to Alfheim. The undead were never even supposed to come close, our sister Hrist leading those fiendish factions away from Valhalla. With the warring on both sides distracted, Silmeria should have been able to make her escape.”

“We were fools to believe that.” Lenneth announced. “The vampires weren’t on the run, weren’t tricked by my sister’s feint. Brahms and his kind instead lay a trap of their own, those blasphemous beings laying in wait inside the Forest of Spirits.” Lezard was listening with rapt attention, his hand pressing the handkerchief against the worst of her scratches. “Ambushed and overwhelmed, it was a slaughter. A massacre on the side of the divine. Only I survived such a nightmare...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that….”

“Why should I not? My King does! He faults me for the failure, for the lives lost, and for the blasphemous act I had allowed the vampire King to get away with.”

“Blasphemous act?” questioned Lezard, and Lenneth’s eyes flashed, her anger and pain, her abject heartbreak, tearing up the very expression on her face.

“My sister wasn’t just stolen.” She announced. “She was TAKEN. That bastard fed from her. I bore witness to that much with my own eyes, unable to stop him. Unable to save her, or stop the grievous sin he forced her to commit.”

The question was in his eyes, Lenneth unable to suppress her pain, or the agitation that was making her shake. “He made her drink of his blood. Do you even know what that means? Can you imagine what she will become? What ruin she will bring upon herself and countless others?!”

“She’ll become one of the undead...”

“She will lose her very SOUL.” Lenneth proclaimed, and with it came her exhaustion. “I failed her.” Lenneth said in a broken despairing tone. “I failed every last one of them!”

“You place too much of the burden on yourself.” Lezard protested.

“What do you know?!” She scoffed. “You weren’t even there!”

“That even one person survived, is a miracle.” But he hadn’t asked her just how she had managed that feat, Lenneth grimacing at the memory of just how easily Brahms had been able to defeat her.

“My King doesn’t think so. Nor is he anywhere as understanding about a failure as you seem to be.” She was trying to force down the pain, the anger, and her unceasing worry for her sister. The effort to keep all that at bay, crept into her voice, Lenneth sounding ever so tired as she spoke. “He can see nothing but my faults, my FAILURE. A failure he deemed grave enough to warrant a most extreme of punishments.” She looked Lezard in the eyes as she said this.”It wasn’t enough to retire me ahead of my time, to strip me of divinity. To marry me off with little idea of who or what would be having me. No...none of this was enough, Odin would have me lose my free will, my heart taken just as surely as Silmeria’s life, her future, was stolen!”

Somehow Lezard had managed not to have flinched under all of that. Instead Lenneth’s near unforgiving tirade had softened the expression on his face, Lezard gazing at Lenneth with something that might have been PITY. She couldn’t bear it if it really was that, her temper already flaring to life long before he tried to offer his condolences. 

“I am truly sorry for your losses, for ALL of them.”

“Your sorry does not bring me back my sister, or my honor!” Lenneth practically shouted at him. “The vampires have cost me EVERYTHING!”

“You STILL have your LIFE.” Lezard was quick to point out.

“Life!? What good is my life if I cannot even use it to save Silmeria?!” She demanded, attempting to pull away. Not without some effort exerted, but the man managed to hold onto the former Valkyrie Goddess.

Maintaining eye contact with her, Lezard spoke. “You are suffering from survivor’s guilt. A common enough affliction, and one that is none too easy to work through. But in time….” At the scoffing sound Lenneth made at that, Lezard sighed. “Perhaps then, it wasn’t so much punishment as it was a kindness from Odin, when he attempted to enchant you to love me?”

She stared at Lezard like he was half out of his mind, Lenneth shaking with an urge to do a very real violence to him. “How can you say that?” She asked in a strangled tone of voice. 

“I..I meant no insult.” Lezard correctly hastily. “But you can’t live out the rest of your life, mourning your sister and lost comrades. Anymore then you can spend that time blaming yourself for what has happened, or torturing yourself with the things that you might have done differently. That’s not a good life, and you survived for a reason. You need to do those lost honor, you need to LIVE, Lenneth. You need to embrace life and that which it offers you.”

She was still staring at him, mouth agape with her shock. He hadn’t made her see the validity of what he was suggesting, anymore than Lezard had made Lenneth believe that Odin had meant this marriage to be anything but a punishment. 

“With you?” She finally managed to say. Lenneth had wanted to sneer, but Lezard had left her to stunned to manage that or much of ANY expression.

“It would be a START.” He told her with a smile.

“Why would you even care?” Lenneth wanted to know. “I am a just a stranger to you...”

“Ah but you are a little more than that.” Lezard reminded her. “Yes, we might not know each other just yet, but one day it will be different. One day I want to be more to you, than just the man your king forced you to marry.” 

She couldn’t help the suspicion that crept into her voice. “Oh?”

I want to be your friend.” Her startled look of surprise, earned yet another smile from Lezard. “”Will you let? Will you allow me at least the chance to try?” He was no longer trying to restrain her, but then Lenneth was no longer trying to pull free of him. “I’ve no reason to try to trick you. My offer of friendship is just that, no schemes or hidden agendas to be found. None save for one.”

“And that is?” She asked guardedly.

“So that we can get to truly know one another better.” He explained.

Still maintaining that guarded tone, Lenneth cautiously spoke. “I don’t know if I can be your friend...”

“You don’t know, or you don’t WANT to?” He asked, and Lenneth hesitated. Odin’s enchantment was still inside her heart, affecting her emotions, messing with her mind. It had never stopped playing with her, trying to make Lenneth be amenable to everything about Lezard, including just about anything he had suggested. The Valkyrie knew that Odin’s enchantment would settle for nothing less than her completely falling, Lenneth in love with the man who had kissed her awake. So strong was the enchantment, that it would be so easy to give in. So easy and even freeing, Lenneth no longer needing to fight, to think, if she would just let the spell over take her. She was stubborn though, Lenneth fighting both the magic and Lezard’s offer of friendship. 

She didn’t think she could afford to let Lezard get that close to her, Lenneth saying as much out loud. Lezard was hardly turned aside by that. “Can you afford NOT to?” He had countered, and Lenneth unsure, had simply shrugged. “Ah well, you needn’t decide on it right this very second. My offer of friendship stands for however long that you need to decide towards accepting it or not.” 

With that, the man had finally let go of her. “Well Lenneth, would you like to explore your new home?” He had set aside the bloodied cloth, Lezard seeming satisfied that Lenneth’s self inflicted wounds weren’t a danger to her.

“Yes.” Lenneth quickly agreed. Just about anything was a better prospect than remaining alone with Lezard in this room. “I am quite curious about where I have ended up.” She added in a conversational tone.

Lezard drew up short at that off hand comment, his look seeming shocked. “Odin did not tell you even that much at least?” It was more than just shock, Lezard was dismayed. “Your King has a sick sense of humor, leaving such explanations to me.”

“Does he now?” Lenneth asked, with a confused look in her eyes. “Odin is known for many things, but somehow...humor isn’t one of them.” Lezard seemed to have no comment to that utterance, the man instead gesturing for Lenneth to follow him. He almost seemed to hesitate before the bedroom’s main door, as though Lezard was bracing himself for something unpleasant. 

“Is there a problem?” She didn’t understand his hesitation, and Lezard didn’t offer up any immediate explanations. Instead he muttered something softly under his breath, the door then opening to reveal a long and wide corridor, and the few people that were walking about it. Most of them were dressed in the uniform of a servant, and those each carried things as they hurried off on their appointed tasks. 

There was also a few dressed in finer clothing, the likes of which made Lenneth think they were of noble birth. This group seemed to have nothing better to do, loitering about the hall, holding a hushed conversation. Both they and the servants all turned to look at Lezard and Lenneth, but no introduction or explanation was offered. Lenneth supposed that for right now it didn’t matter, the woman having enough on her mind without having to meet a whole new group of people.

Such as the enchantment, Odin’s magic not anywhere near ready to relinquish it’s hold on Lenneth’s heart. The Valkyrie felt as though she had to maintain a constant vigilance against it, the fight such that it dulled the opulence of her surroundings. Lenneth did see and notice much, such as the intricately painted panelings of the walls, and the very expensive carpets on the floor. The woman saw the statues, and the richly appointed rooms through the open doors that she and Lezard walked past. She wasn’t impressed by such things, but Lenneth did know enough to recognize that Lezard was a very wealthy man. A man who liked having the finest on display, a man who saw no expense spared when it came to decorating his home.

That he could afford to spread such wealth throughout a building of this size frankly amazed her, Lenneth not having realized that anyone could be as well off as the Gods. This castle didn’t quite rival Valhalla, but it was still a marvel. Lenneth found herself wondering just what Lezard did to make his living, and THAT is when she came across the crest. Such was it’s size, that Lenneth would have never NOT noticed it. Larger in size than most mirrors, the crest took up a generous portion of the wall it was adhered to. 

Mystic runes were carved at the base of it, their red glow making her eyes water to look at them for too long. The language the runes spoke in, were of an old and near forgotten tongue, and yet to one who once been an immortal goddess, the language of the ancients was a common enough knowledge. Even if she was slightly rusty on some of the finer nuances.

Almost absentmindedly, Lenneth had translated enough to get out the general gist of what was written. Of how the runes spoke of loyalty to a great Queen, telling of the prosperity that was to be earned at her feet. But that alone might not have been enough to alarm her. It was the image itself, the carvings that had been etched into the stones of the crest. A three legged horse that Lenneth had instantly known to be a Helhest beast was there, leading a chariot in which a single woman could be seen seated inside it. That woman only had half of her face made clear, as though the smooth stone of it had been purposefully left incomplete in giving the Queen her appearance.

“Lenneth? Is everything all right, my lady?”

It was only then, at the sound of Lezard’s voice, that Lenneth realized that she had come to a complete stop. Her body was practically paralyzed with the horror dawning inside her, the shock of her discovery pushing back even that of Odin’s love spell. Lenneth just stood there, her mouth open and gaping, her mind trying not to acknowledge just WHO was the patron Goddess of these people.

She didn’t want to accept it. Lenneth stared at the crest, then forced herself to turn to Lezard. She was shaking with the violent tremors that had overtaken her, Lenneth leaning into Lezard just close enough to breath in deeply of his scent. Her flaring nostrils that had thought they had caught the familiar scent of ether, now knew that it was just different enough. The two similar scents both brought to mind a powerful discharge, but where one was of the divine, the other wasn’t so blessed.

Magic. The scent was of magic. Now that she knew what it was, Lenneth would never ever mistake it for the other, magic so far removed from the Gods’ ether as to be a pitiful imitation. 

Actually shaking in an attempt to suppress the worst of her horror, it was with the utmost in discomfort that Lenneth addressed Lezard with her questions. “What nation of Midgard have I come to reside in?” So much was already known, the very existence of magic here, betraying Lezard and his people as to what they already were. Yet Lenneth tried to deny it, foolishly hoped that the man would somehow answer with something other than what the Valkyrie knew to be the truth. 

“I have a right to know!” She added, when it appeared Lezard was going to leave her voiced question unanswered.

With a resigned sigh, Lezard seemed to deflate. “That you do.” He agreed, keeping his eyes locked with hers. It was as though he was gauging the reaction that Lenneth was already giving him. “This is Flenceburg.”

“Flenceburg!” She gasped at the confirmation, her hand pressing over her chest as Lenneth staggered back against the wall. She simply couldn’t believe that Odin would do this to her, that her king could be so cruel. Was her failure to keep Silmeria away from Brahms really worth such an extreme punishment? That Odin would willingly send Lenneth among their enemies? Her eyes looked away from Lezard to the crest, finding it was a confirmation that made her shudder. She could almost picture the Queen's appearance now, and that of her mocking smile.

How funny Queen Hel would find the situation. Lenneth was sure that that hated Goddess would find it highly humorous that one of Odin's Valkyries was now to be wed to one of her followers. For once Lenneth didn't have to fight the love enchantment, her horror all consuming. She may not have had much experience on Midgard, but she knew enough to know of Flenceburg. A nation that allied itself with the underworld, and it's Queen. The Goddess Hel of Nifleheim, a ruler who was rumored to hold many dread alliances, the most notorious being that of the undead.

Still completely reeling, Lenneth stared at the crest, wanting to scream with her mounting revulsion, and the rage that was boiling inside of her. How could Odin have done this, how could he have put her in the heart of an enemy nation? How could he expect her to love this man, and to bear children that would one day swear their allegiance to the bitch Goddess Hel? Was Lenneth's failure such that it warranted such an extreme punishment? If Odin thought to make an example of Lenneth, he had surely succeeded. No Valkyrie would ever risk failing him again, for fear of being so dishonored.

“You are handling this better than I would have actually thought.” Lezard had finally broken the silence. She nearly choked at his words, Lenneth too upset to do much more than stand there in a growing display of her shock and her horror. She almost didn’t notice the way that Lezard’s shoulders were sagging with disappointment, the way his very nature seemed to scream of his awkwardness and embarrassment. Lenneth might almost think Lezard was ashamed of his home land, and it would have been a justifiable response. Her reaction might be playing a huge part in that too, as though the man had realized that all of his hopes and his dreams where Lenneth was concerned had gone up in flames.

“I am a Valkyrie.” She said at last. It was both a way of reminding him, and an explanation, Lezard nodding slowly in agreement. “I will honor the agreement.” Though she wouldn’t much like it. “Though I must admit to being quite curious how you managed to make such an arrangement with my King."

Lezard seemed to turn even more uncomfortable at that inquiry, his eyes actually shifting away from her. He was hiding something, that much was obvious. Lenneth stepped towards him, intent on getting her answer.

"The wedding will be in a few days' time." Now he was the one avoiding her touch, Lezard walking ahead of her. "I thought it best to let you acquaint yourself with your new home and it’s people before rushing into the ceremony."

She frowned at his back, Lenneth thinking she would never be at ease with the people of this nation. Not when most if not all would be known followers of Hel, the lot of them sworn to the dark arts in the foul Queen's name. Perhaps even more unbearable was the thought, that unlike her sister Silmeria, there would be no one coming to rescue Lenneth from the predicament she had found herself in. 

Clenching her hands into fists, Lenneth slowly followed after Lezard. The words whispered in her head, but she knew not who to direct her prayers to. The woman would be damned before she would pray to Hel for guidance. But the Valkyrie was also loathe to pray for help from the very king who had betrayed her in so extreme a manner. In the end, she settled on her sister's name, Lenneth wishing Silmeria was somehow faring better than she.

 

To Be Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick author's note. I moved the rating up to M...even though I feel nothing M rated has happened yet. But it will. Eventually....so decided I better raise the rating to keep underage people from wrongly reading this. Sorry...!
> 
> 9/19/2017 Massive update done of this chapter. Went from around 5000 something words to nearly 12000!
> 
> \---Michelle


	7. Seven

He had been played for a fool. Lezard had known and accepted it as thus, the man keenly aware of just what he had passed up on. The paradise that he had barred himself from ever setting true foot inside of. His immortal soul traded, damned for all of eternity, and still Lezard was convinced that of the two deals, a life with the Valkyrie for his bride was of the better. What use did Lezard have of a paradise without her? What reason was there to spend an entire eternity alone, when the man could instead have a brief taste of domestic bliss? With a Goddess no less, Lenneth no ordinary female, but that of a Valkyrie maiden. Once a minor deity in her own right, and even made mortal she still reigned magnificent.

The Gods help him, but even at her most dismayed and upset she was a sight. An absolute vision with her pale, luminous skin, and with her bright and expressive blue eyes that had tried and failed at keeping her secrets from him. That beautiful face, those soft sensual lips, and the remembered feel of that woman trembling beneath him. What he wouldn’t give to feel that again, what hadn’t already been so thoroughly bartered away, Lezard gazing upon a woman who was so supremely lovely as to make his heart hurt.

Were all Valkyries like that? No, of course not. His heart hadn’t throbbed to aching life, his soul itself had been left untouched by the vision of divine grace and lethal beauty that had been Odin’s Valkyries in the midst of a battle. He had made note of them but with a cool detachment, Lezard’s mind more curious than anything, analytical of any and all weaknesses that he could have then reported back to his queen. To his patron Goddess, Hel of Nifleheim. Never had Lezard felt more ashamed, never had he hated that Goddess more than he now did, Lezard dismayed. Braced for and still flinching under the Valkyrie’s blatant horror.

There was no words that could be said, no excuses that could be made. No amount of begging that could undo the hard facts of his life. Lezard was what he was, not just damned for his choices, but for his faith, the man owing allegiance to the Goddess who had seen to blessing him with so much. With the life that he had grown accustom to, the wealth and the power, the home and the people under his rule. Everything that Lezard had ever had, and everything that Queen Hel could then choose to take.

Even the Valkyrie was not immune to this, Lezard keenly aware of just how much Hel had poisoned things between them. Lenneth looked at him as though he was a MONSTER, as though she saw not the man in front of her, and certainly not the man who had risked everything on just the chance of her. No longer did those beautiful blue eyes express the internal conflict that had waged on inside her, Lenneth’s love, the chance of it, surely lost to her horror and her disgust. Her revulsion for what---who he was, and just where she now was.

Lezard fought to maintain his own expression, actually struggled to portray an outwards calm that he in no way felt. The man knew that he had failed miserably, all of his own upset and apathetic feelings alive in the language of his own body. His shoulders positively sagged with the weight of them, something very much like shame alight in his eyes. Lezard stared at Lenneth with such a bleak, unblinking expression, watching as the woman tried and failed to pull herself together.

He nodded at the words that she had then said, at the unspoken determination of a woman, a Valkyrie, who was braced to do her duty. Lezard was nothing more than that to Lenneth. No. He was worse than that, the woman having admitted to him that she thought and viewed him as her PUNISHMENT. It took all of his faltering heart’s inner strength to not make a betraying motion, to neither flinch in place nor make fists with his hands. But it hurt all the same, Lezard stung, not just by her rejection, but by her King’s deception. By the last laugh that Odin was having at Lezard’s expense. His cheeks were burning with the heat of that humiliation, and with the anger now growing inside him, Lezard knowing that this was the one secret that would follow him to his grave and there after.

Lenneth would never be privy to the real truth of just how Lezard had come to acquire her. It was a truth that not even Queen Hel suspected, the underworld’s goddess sure to make him pay a thousandfold over for his deceit and his betrayals. That shiver of unease at the reckoning that he would someday face, the eternal torments that Hel would delight in inflicting on Lezard, that knowledge nearly cramped in his stomach, the man quickly turning away from his intended bride to be.

It didn’t stop her from wondering, from Lenneth asking the question of just how Lezard and Odin had come to such an agreement. Unwilling to outright spin a lie to her, but equally as unable to admit the truth to ANYONE, Lezard settled instead for simply ignoring what Lenneth had just said. 

“The wedding will be in a few day’s time.” That disaffected voice and the inability to look at her, couldn’t protect his heart from his bride, Lezard recognizing that he was so thoroughly mired in a trap that had been of his own choosing. He was overcome with desire, overwhelmed with infatuation. And now that Lezard had had an actual taste of her, the man was sure that he was half way in love. More and more pitfalls appeared before him, Lezard trying to carefully side step them all, but he couldn’t avoid the love looming, the reality of the Valkyrie such that the man was half mad with the wanting of her.

Such a ruinous desire, Lezard having not only destroyed himself, but HER, Lenneth stripped of everything. From her divinity to life as she had known it, and only now was it truly hitting Lezard just how much he had taken from her. The same feelings that made his heart swell with a kind of desperate love and longing were nothing more than a poison to the Valkyrie. She was suffocating under them, suffocating under him, and there was a part of him that was STILL too selfish, to wish he had done otherwise.

That greedy longing, that seductive whisper inside of his head, that and his unbridled desire, all the tools needed for Odin to have played him. Or rather THEM, Lenneth little more than a means to an end, the pretty bait in which to dangle before the right—wrong man. Lezard had reached for it, reached for HER, and had walked right into Odin’s trap.

The feeling that was birthing to life inside of him wasn’t yet strong enough to be named regret. Maybe it never would be. Lezard was after all greedy, absolutely selfish when it came to his own needs. That Lenneth was proving to be that vital something that Lezard had gone too long without was a fact that he couldn’t, wouldn’t deny. Not even to the doubts and uncertainties that now tried to plague him, Lezard haunted by Lenneth, by the look in her eyes. That grief stricken horror, the steely eyed resignation, and the burgeoning love that the woman had to battle near constant against, Lenneth was both proud and brave in her defiance. In her commitment to her duty, that punishment that she thought was a penance for her failures. 

It was a sick twist of fate, that win or lose, Lenneth would still have been given away. Her fate had long been decided on, her king needing just an excuse to rid himself of her. That Odin had maximized the effect of just how devastating a decree that his order would be, just cemented in Lezard’s mind that the God was as deceitful and manipulative as he had already known Hel to be. 

~Damn him!~ There was real venom to that thought, Lezard glad that Lenneth was situated behind him so as not to be able to see the scowl that had twisted his very expression. He was so mad that Lezard thought that he might spit, the unholy magic inside him bristling with the need to lash out at a certain God. For this is not what they had agreed upon, not at all what Lezard had imagined when he had bartered away everything in exchange for having Lenneth as his intended bride to be. He hadn’t expect the Valkyrie to come to him HAPPY about her fate, but neither had Lezard thought the woman would be so thoroughly poisoned against him. 

Believing him to be nothing more than her punishment, Lenneth’s prejudices had been set against Lezard long before she had learned of just who and what he worshiped. This was nothing like what Odin had promised, the woman completely unprepared for the reality of her situation. Instead the burden of explanations had fallen into Lezard’s hands, the man completely caught off guard, floundering about in an attempt to somehow find a way to make the situation and it’s circumstances palpable to his bride.

He feared that there was nothing, NOTHING, that could be done. No words that could be a strong enough balm for the hurt that Odin had caused. The damage to the foundation of everything that Lezard had hoped to build upon with Lenneth. That seething feeling, that sheer lack of hope, both pushed and pulled at him in a play for dominance over his thoughts. He again damned Odin for his tricks, and if Lezard was at anywhere honest, the man damned himself too. 

His lust his undoing, Lezard knew and understood that his feelings were a weakness. That Lenneth was a weakness. One any and all could exploit, even the Valkyrie herself. Certainly her king had, Lezard wondering now at just how much more deeply he had been played. Had Odin been counting on Lezard to fall? Is THAT why he had allowed the sorcerer so close, Lezard able to get an eye full of a whole squadron of Valkyries? Dozens upon dozens of the lethal beauties, the fierce battle maidens dressed in full armored regalia, with swords, spears and even a cross bow at the ready.

Divine in nature, deadly in grace, the Valkyries hadn’t fought a war so much as made sport of the undead around them. With blood spraying and limbs flying, with heads severed and bodies squelching under foot, that group of Goddesses were a quick and efficient lot. With wave upon wave of undead approaching, with ghouls, zombies, vampires and even a revenant or two, with creatures of all manner, and nightmares that crept from the deepest part of the dark, this legion of monsters had barreled head on to their doom.

It had been awe inspiring, and truth be known it had been a little frightening. Lezard had looked at the Valkyries, and had seen the sheer and utter futility of Hel’s plans. Of the war that the underworld’s Queen had hoped to wage. Lezard had not only seen defeat for Hel and her minions, he had anticipated a great many deaths. He might have even seen that of his own, Lezard having looked up at the group of Goddesses at their most ferocious, and coming away shaken by one fact. That no mortal human, be he man or she woman, be they armed with magic or armed with sharp steel, would ever be able to make a true difference. Not even Hel’s blessing could change that fact, the underworld’s Goddess simply too weak to empower the humans needed to overrun the heavens.

Rooted in place, it was on the Plains of Idavoll, that Lezard Valeth had the first of his many epiphanies. He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to be damned. Both were unenviable fates, the cycle of life and death such that a human had to both live and eventually die. It was the second that was more negotiable, factors at play here that decided who went where and by how. There was a complex balance between the heavens and the underworld, Nifleheim a place for all of Odin’s undesirables. Such as the warriors who did NOT die in battle. Or the humans who died of old age or of sickness. It hardly seemed fair that so many were damned on so daily a basis, and yet it was fact that the underworld was overcrowded with the condemned. The damned and those too beneath the heavens’ consideration.

Lezard had known he was both, had known the blessing of his Goddess had tainted just about all chance at heaven’s paradise. And yet he had dared to dream otherwise, had dared to hope. It was on the Plains of Idavoll that an idea began to take root. A mad bit of scheming that had Lezard grasping at the opportunity that his Goddess herself had inadvertently sanctioned. With the very subterfuge that she had bid him to play out, Lezard had decided to use what he knew of Hel’s desire, and of her plans, to instead betray her.

Privy to more secrets than any other human in Hel’s kingdom, Lezard felt certain that HE was the key towards bringing an end to Nifleheim’s insane ambition. He was the most trusted of her subjects, the most gifted and beloved, Lezard’s magic talented beyond measure. It was that magic that came into play on the Plains of Idavoll, the sorcerer using all manner of spells to aid and assist the Valkyries in their fight. Those warrior maidens hadn’t needed his help in theory, but the spells that Lezard had slung about did help to wittle down a large number of the undead king’s near endless troops.

It was then that he had seen her, it was there amidst the dwindling number of able bodied undead that Lezard had spied a glimpse of the Valkyrie Lenneth. That fleeting glimpse from across a vast distance, shouldn’t have had such a profound effect on him. Lenneth should have been just another woman, just another Goddess, a figure whose deadly dance across the crowded plains should have struck a fear and desperation into all who had beheld her lethal form. 

Lezard hadn’t felt fear, though a desperation had been upon him. A rapturous desire, Lezard driven by need, the man wanting to see the face of that Valkyrie. He hadn’t been able to get a good enough look, the Goddess moving too fast, twirling away from one danger to another, her sword effortlessly slicing through air as she had thrust and stabbed it into the bodies of nightmares. Her cobalt blue armor had made a striking offset against the braided platinum of her long hair, and long, lithe legs flashed tantalizing glimpses of her thighs whenever the woman kicked high enough for her skirt’s slit to fall back and expose her.

Lezard had found that he had not only stopped breathing, but that his eyes hadn’t been able to look away. He had been riveted in place, had been in the absolute thrall of the Goddess, his heart an echoing drum beat that had left him deafened to the roar of the war around him. He hadn’t been able to see, to hear, to FEEL, all of Lezard’s acute awareness spiraling down to that vision in cobalt blue. To the hint of striking ice that was her eyes, to that wild play of that braided hair of platinum, each facet of her that had been revealed to him had then carved a brand into his very soul.

Such a ruthless embodiment of sensuality, such a sublime promise of the unearthly, pain and pleasured combined to deliver a woman that was the perfect instrument with which to deal in both. He had been in awe of her, Lezard so thoroughly overcome, the thoughts slipping from his head as easily as the breath had from his lungs. He hadn’t been able to see, to think of anything else, Lezard attempting to creep closer to the woman, the Goddess who had so thoroughly took a hold of him. That not one, but two armies stood between the man and the Valkyrie hadn’t seemed to much matter, Lezard bristling with his determination and the unbridled strength of the very magic inside him.

Such unholy magic had been a danger, and not just to the combatants that might stand between Lezard and HIS Goddess. In that moment, Lezard had been a danger to himself, all his efforts to suppress the true level of strength inside of him forgotten, all that amassed power surging stronger. Hel’s power had never burned hotter, Lezard lit up like a beacon and betrayed by his own magic. Marked by it, marked by her, his ties to Nifleheim should have guaranteed his end. 

Even as Lezard had realized too late what he had just done, the man had struggled to suppress the worst of it. Unholy energy had continued to gather in his glove hands, his skin having crackled with the heated sensation of a spell, his magic wanting, needing an outlet. The struggle to deny it that had left Lezard sweating, thick beads of perspiration dripping down the sides of his face. His fingers had actually curled under the onslaught of magic, the energy calling, wanting to damn him and those around him to it’s death and devastation.

It was the platinum haired Valkyrie, the sight of her, and the thought of her broken body, that had kept the worst of his magic at bay, For her, Lezard had fought the use of his own magic, the man having struggled with the effort that it took for any semblance of control. The gathered magic hadn’t wanted to be denied, that malevolent energy not wanting to stay hidden. It, that thing inside him, had wanted to be known, had wanted to revel in the shock, awe, and horror of all those around him. 

Lezard had fought it, fought the magic and the death it would bring. His efforts alone shouldn’t have been enough, Nifleheim’s magic such that all of Asgard should have been up in arms over it. Over the threat of it, the danger, the taint of the underworld creeping in with him. The sin of it alone was a death sentence, Hel and her followers not welcome in Asgard. They had NEVER been. And they might never be, Lezard left alive by the grace of one God. By Lord Odin himself, the God not so much in a merciful mood as he had been curious.

Lezard had always known right from the start that the mission had been dangerous. That there had been little if any chance of success. That too many had already tried. Too many who had tried and then failed, finding their lives were the ultimate in prices paid. Hel hadn’t cared, the underworld’s Goddess too obsessed with, too determined to get a foothold into the heavens. Mage after mage was commanded, many promising talents lost to one mad deity’s lofty ambitions. 

Every last one of them considered expandable, Hel had sacrificed close to one thousand mages in her attempt to gain an audience with the heavens’ king. Spread out over countless centuries, and Odin had never ONCE deign to speak to any of the queen’s ambassadors. Lezard shouldn’t have been any different. The power inside of him shouldn’t have been anything worth noting. And yet there was a reason that the man was the queen’s favorite, a reason why the magic inside him was so special. Twisted by Hel’s touch as it was, there had still been no masking it’s own unique flavor. 

Odin hadn’t been able to resist it, hadn’t been able to contain his own curiosity. Here was a power, in a human no less, that was unlike anything in all of Creation. That odd mix of the divine and the damned, Hel’s brand upon him not able to strip away entirely the superiority that was in the mage’s blood. Odin had looked at Lezard and had seen the puzzle fit, a decades long mystery and it’s secrets unraveling. 

His existence the key, the tangible proof of an unforgivable crime, Lezard had by all rights been Odin’s to strike down. The God shouldn’t have hesitated, shouldn’t have allowed any doubts to have plagued him. And yet it had, Odin having wondered a great many things. The why of it, and the many possible what ifs, Lezard the Goddess Hel’s trump hand revealed, the mage possibly just the first of a legion of such elite.

Even if he wasn’t, even if the mage was a wholly unique anomaly, then why would Hel have risked him? Why play this tact so early? To scare Odin, or to seduce him? The King of the Heavens hadn’t been able to tell, and perhaps it was that uncertainty that had troubled the Lord all the more.

Unable to make a decision, unable to outright try to right Hel’s wrong, Odin had instead settled on a subterfuge of his own. Having made himself comfortable on a smooth sided boulder, the God’s eyes had never diverted from the mage. Odin had born silent witness to the man’s struggles, to Lezard’s exhausting efforts to tamp down the magic that had been betraying him. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed how neither the Valkyries nor that of the undead had realized and been alerted to him. He had been completely oblivious, Lezard not aware of anything save his own difficulties and desires.

He certainly hadn’t felt the shielding spell that had been placed around him. The magic that muffled and contained the underworld’s taint. That same power that had clouded over his senses, Lezard aware of little, until after the God had sighed. Odin’s breath had expelled on a great gust of wind, that breezy current having held a hint of winter’s frost to it that made the mage shiver in reaction.

It had been more than the cold that had caused that reaction. There had been a surge of power behind him, a great spike of power that had surpassed that of Hel’s. It hadn’t been there just a second ago, Lezard having now become aware that a new player had entered into the field. A God by the feel of it, one of such immense age and power that there was few if any to truly be of rival. 

Having expected to be then be struck down by this God, Lezard had still tried to speak. His tongue had faltered inside his mouth, Lezard’s mind so alarmingly empty. He hadn’t been able to find the words, hadn’t even been able to think of them, Lezard having tried and failed to plead for his life.

The killing blow had never actually come. Instead of fists or a sword, or a blast of divine ether, the God behind him had merely sighed again. There had been admiration in that sound, the God’s low, husky voice then speaking.

“They are beautiful, are they not?”

Of all the things that the God could have asked, that offhand comment spoken in so casual a tone, had been the last thing that Lezad had been expecting. He had nodded a slow yes without even thinking, too astonished to do much of anything save stare straight ahead. At the arresting sight, the dozen upon dozens of examples of Odin’s beauty at work.

“Beautiful and deadly.” His tone had been strangled, Lezard having wondered if the Valkyries would be the last sight of his. He hadn’t wanted to die, and yet Lezard had instantly sought out the figure in the cobalt blue armor. Let THAT Goddess be his last memory, that ethereal vision the only thing worthy of taking with him to his eternal damnation.

To his shock, a soft rumble of the God’s laughter had come from behind him. It hadn’t been a cruel sound, the God more pleased than anything that Lezard could have expected. It almost reminded Lezard of a proud father, the God speaking in a tone that was far more fond than anything Lezard could have imagined.

“It is an intriguing mix, is it not?” The God had wanted to know. Lezard had been unable to deny it, the mage no more immune to the charms of the Valkyrie women than most men. 

“The soft beauty of a woman...” The God had continued after a moment’s beat. “Tempered with the violent aggression of a man.” Lezard had nearly winced then, watching as an especially vicious thrust forward had impaled a spear straight through some ghoulish nightmare’s body.

“Ah...” The God had breathed out with an approving sound. “But unlike those mortal creatures, my Valkyrie are perfect. They hold neither the vanity of a woman, nor the weakness of a man.”

It had been deliberate, that provocative statement meant to incite. Lezard had known that as fact, and still he had bristled, his masculine ego having been insulted. “And just what weakness is that?”

The God’s answer had been immediate, the words as provocative they had been hard fact. “Greed, lust, cruelty. Those many, many dark little impulses your kind has to do harm to others. I could go on for an eternity, and still not cover them all." 

It had been said in such a mocking manner, the God’s derision apparent in his every spoken word. This was a man, a God, who had little like nor love for those he viewed as a lesser species, who had actually looked down on the human race as a whole. It was everything that Lezard had been warned against, the teaching of the underworld and it’s Goddess along with the decree of the Heavens themselves, all the truth needed to support the claim that Odin and his kind didn’t much care about anything, anyone not born of the Heavens. It had still been a struggle, both to accept that rudely taunting condensation quietly, and to not offer a scathing retort of his own. Lezard had fought for his control, had actually let out a deep, exaggerated breath, the mage watching the battle before him. His eyes kept on being riveted by the Valkyrie in the cobalt blue armor, an idle thought upon him, Lezard having wondered if SHE was like all the other divine. His infatuated heart though hadn’t wanted to believe it, his soul alight and alive with the desire that she had helped rouse.

Unable and unwilling to believe the worst of her, Lezard had let the sight of the platinum haired Valkyrie work off the edge of the red hot anger that had been boiling to a bursting point inside of him. Once the worst of the anger had been brought under his control, once Lezard had no longer fought against the scathing words that had remained locked inside him still, the man had had a realization. One that had so shocked and surprised him, that Lezard had forgotten to be wary. With a strangled shout, and with a sudden spin, Lezard had turned, getting his first look at the God seated behind him.

“YOUR Valkyries?!” He had then exclaimed, his jaw agape with his shock. With the realization that this wasn’t just ANY God before him, but that of the King of them. Odin of Asgard, the Ruler of the Heavens, and the very man that Hel had wanted Lezard to speak with. Under the guise of negotiations between the two realms, Lezard would have been expected to manipulate and lull Odin into a betraying a weakness. Some flaw that Hel herself would have been able to build upon. 

Truth be known, Lezard hadn’t expected to see the God, let alone get THIS close to him. And yet here Odin was, seated comfortably on the rock as though it was the finest of thrones, completely and utterly relaxed as he had looked past the mage to gaze out with a fond expression at the battling group of Goddesses. There had been a slight softening to his features, the faintest of a smile there that had been one bursting with pride.

“Each and EVERY one.” The God had then acknowledged, his coal gray eyes focused on the battle before him. There hadn’t even been a tension to him, the man not frightened of Lezard or that of the thread of the undead. They had all been but insects to a God as powerful as Odin, annoying but otherwise harmless.

Speaking with that tone of pride and possession, Odin had inclined his head slightly to Lezard. The mage had then took the visual clue, starting to turn to see just what had caught Odin’s eyes this time. The fighting had drawn closer, the Valkyries absolutely brutal in the way that they had continued to make sport of their foes. “For as long as they can fight, they are each mine. To do with as I see fit.”

It had always been that way. The hard truth of it a fact that was a cornerstone of the foundation of the universe under Odin’s rule. Everyone in all of the nine realms knew of Odin and his Valkyries, knew of their purpose, and of their unflinching duty. Both guardians of his cosmos, and executioners of the God’s law, Odin’s Valkyries had had their lives, their very existences, mapped out by him.

The divine fire in their blood, these Goddesses had been forged by armor and steel. There had been a driving need inside each of them, a regimented focus for order and law, the violence inside them a cold, practical thing that thrived not on cruelty, but on justice. It was the Valkyrie that saw to the safe guarding of all the realms, who both protected and rewarded Odin’s followers for their faith.

These same Goddesses who pulled off such miracles, weren’t just the turning tide in the war against the undead. They were also an incentive. Everyone, EVERY man, woman, and child knew of the fate of the fallen Valkyries. Human, elf, divine or otherwise, and even that of the undead, all knew what was promised. What had tempted many a human and an elf into an alliance with the Gods. It wasn’t just that the women were beautiful, that marriage to one elevated your status in the eyes of all. It was the blessings that came with having a former Goddess as your bride, the beauty, brains, and strength of the Valkyrie passing on to their children. The best and the brightest in all the realms, many of Creations’ strongest heroes, and most brilliant and crafty of strategists, had been birthed from a Valkyrie bride. All of whom had raised up arms in the name of the God Odin, the warriors his to command in life and in death.

The heavens full of these soldiers, there had been few if any to rival Odin’s amassed strength. Most knew enough to not even try, and of those many factions of Creation, only that of the combined forces of the many kinds of undead, and that of the underworld’s followers, even dared to separately attempt to make trouble. Both failed to make any lasting and long differences, neither Brahms’ undead, or that of Hel’s followers strong enough on their own.

It was the Valkyrie blood that was making all the difference. It was the Valkyrie’s children who had kept the realms from being overrun. From being destroyed completely by that of the undead, and from Hel’s own insane ambitions. They truly were the ideal in women, so breath taking lovely and strong, that they were in high demand everywhere, even in a land like Flenceburg. A kingdom dominated by the underworld, and a people completely free of Odin’s reign, and there too were the warrior Goddesses so coveted, so lusted after by the men. 

It was a lust that had always meant to go unfulfilled, the people there shunned. Looked down upon, even hated for their alliance, Hel’s followers had been damned in more ways than one. A greedy, grasping nation of people, Flenceburg and the other lands that had fallen under Hel’s rule, had let their lust for power and wealth drive them. A nation built on the backs of betrayals and manipulation, of cruelty and fear, Lezard had been able to admit, at least to himself, that Odin hadn’t been so far off after all. Not about mortal men and the weaknesses that the God had derided as being inside them.

Even Lezard himself wasn’t above or below such weakness. His hands were too stained with many a misdeed, the mage having been well aware that his own life record wasn’t much of anything to be proud of. The man had done what he had needed, to survive, and to thrive, no other real choice afforded to him. There had never been, Lezard damned, doomed to a life under Hel’s thumb from the first moment the promise of his magic had made itself known.

The unfairness of it all had begun to bother the man more and more, Lezard increasingly aware of his own mortality. Of the odds stacked against him, the enemies more so than age set to bring him down, and sooner rather than later. It had always been the way of things, Lezard at the very top of the food chain when it came to Hel’s people. And once at the top, there was little else distance to travel but DOWN. There simply was too many people, too many eager to take Lezard’s place. Too many willing to sacrifice and push him over, and Lezard was aware that the swift and brutal fall would not end with his death.

Damnation awaited them all. Damnation awaited HIM, Hel hardly the forgiving kind of Goddess to show ANY of her followers mercy. She used and abused them as she saw fit, had done so for a millennia of time. Grown and groomed under her care, the Underworld’s followers hadn’t had a chance, hadn’t known much of any other way but that of Hel’s. Doomed and damned by the life they had all been born into, by the nation that had branded it’s corruption into their very soul, Flenceburg and the like weren’t going to find any salvation at the hands of any other God. Not even that of the King, Odin of Asgard an uncaring, intolerant despot who had no use for any one but those that could fight and win him his battles.

He had ALWAYS been that way, Odin tossing aside his undesirables, the sick and the elderly, any and all who did not fight and die in glorious battle in HIS name. The underworld was jam packed with the souls of the undeserving, men, women, and children all made to suffer for Hel’s amusement and rage. 

He had bore witness firsthand to the tortures that Hel had delighted in inflicting on those innocently undeserving, on them and on sinners alike, Nifleheim’s Goddess just as quick to torment the damned as she was the doomed. It made her both feared and hated, even as the damned all tried to curry favor with the Goddess, each one hoping, praying that their end fate would turn out differently. 

No one had ever found a way around escaping Hel’s punishment. No one had ever even come close to it, but Lezard had still been determined to try. Odin had seemed to be the key, to be the one and only chance of a salvation, Lezard had been prepared to risk it all, to pull off the ultimate in betrayals for the God’s promise of something better. He had just never dreamed that there would be something that the mage would want more than that of the heaven’s paradise.

Unprepared for the rush of desire that would hit him, that near undeniable want, Lezard had turned back towards the God. Odin of Asgard was now LOOKING at him, the divine being holding an expectant air to him. Lezard had paused a moment, before offering up a greeting, his tone completely respectful but lacking the reverent awe that so many of Midgard would have been prone to voicing. He had simply been that unimpressed, Odin not the first or the last of the divine that Lezard would ever have dealings with.

“Lord Odin.” Somehow Lezard had managed to keep the disdain out of his voice, the disgust that this God inspired. A bleeding heart Lezard might not be, but the mage still hadn’t been able to understand how any one being could be so cold and uncaring, so callous and cruel and NOT be insane. 

It had been thoughts like that, and the disgust, that had nearly kept Lezard from protocol. It had been the annoyed look in the God’s eyes, and Lezard own increasing instincts for self preservation that had the man sketch a quick bow. The mage hadn’t been about to go down on his knees, not for a God he didn’t follow, and certainly not for one that Lezard so despised. 

It had been enough, Odin at last giving his own bit of acknowledgment. His eyes had narrowed, the God having continued his looking, not so much studying Lezard and his outward appearence as that of his soul.

“You are not one of my Valkyrie’s einherjar.” He had stated. His nostrils had visibly flared, Odin sniffing with disdain. “The scent of the death you cause may cling to you, but it is a far different trait that gives you away.” A further narrowing of the God’s eyes, Odin giving him the once over. “Necromancer. I have been expecting you.”

That Odin had known him for what he was, hadn’t much surprised Lezard. There had always been a magic inside him, an unholy potential that had singled the man out to more than just Hel. That dark power inside him, the damning energy and the foul deeds that had result from it and Hel demands, had all thoroughly left a mark on the mage. What HAD been surprising? That the God Odin had acted as though he had been awaiting his arrival. Lezard hadn’t been able to fathom the how and the why of it, any more than he had been able to ascertain if the God had been prepared to receive him as a visitor rather than a threat. Lezard had still hoped against the latter, the man not wanting his life to be ended before he could so much as draw the breath needed in which to make his plea.

“It’s very...” He had hesitated then, the uncertainty of what Lezard had faced, leaving the man to take extra care with the choosing of his words. “It’s very KIND of you to come greet me, yourself...”

“I was curious.” That admittance had had Lezard lifting an eyebrow, the mage staring at the God.

“OH?”

“I thought to myself, what reason could Hel possibly have THIS time to have sent yet ANOTHER one of her minions here to my domain. Is she really that reckless, or is it that Hel simply has more souls than even SHE knows what to do with?” Odin had chuckled then. “Hel certainly cannot still be fool enough to think I would ever be lured into an alliance with her….” His head had cocked to the side then, Odin having again made Lezard the focus of an intent, scrutinizing stare. 

It was unnerving, Lezard having blinked slowly in an attempt to recover. The God gad simply set him off balance, Lezard feeling a little too slow and dull witted to make any real progress. “Queen Hel is prepared to...to make it a very lucrative alliance….” He had trailed off at Odin’s laughter, that gruff bark of disdainful amusement that had chased away all the light from the God’s eyes. It had made Lezard’s blood run cold to see, the mage having been certain that he was about to be struck down.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?” Odin had demanded. A kind of scoffing snort had followed those words, Odin absolutely disgusted, maybe even downright disappointed with Lezard. “What could she possibly offer that I don’t already have?” Those words, that question, had been accompanied by a grand gesture, his arm encompassing the combatants around them, the Valkyrie and the einherjar who had since joined them in the fight against the undead. 

“As you can see…” Odin had continued with a gloating smile. “I have all the soldiers that I need, the best and the brightest in all the realms, picked fresh from the many who have died. How can she hope to compete, what does Hel think that she has, save for the leftover remnants? The weak and the damned, those not fit for my paradise?”

Such words had had power to them, for both their cruel undertones and the absolute truth of them. Certainly the words had had a power over him, Lezard reacting. He had tried and had failed to keep the God from riling him up, Lezard’s face heating up with his anger, with his very resentments. It had all come pouring out as a challenge, Lezard almost mocking the God with questions of his own. 

“And what of the living?” Lezard had asked. “The many of Midgard, the many who follow Hel….The many that could be utilized in your war with the undead?”

“What of them?” Odin had questioned in a flat tone of voice. 

Lezard had been too caught up in the moment, a hint of his pride revealed in the boasting tones that he had then used. “You have seen my power, have you not? Gotten the briefest taste of just what I am capable of. Imagine an army of such powerful mages at your command….”

“If Hel had such an army, if she was even capable of empowering so many, your Queen would have overrun the Heavens by now.” Odin’s tone had been ever so dismissive. “No, such power is a rarity, and that which you boast about is so tainted by Hel’s hands, so thoroughly corrupt, that it makes you little better than Brahms ilk. The both of you lot need to be put down as the menace that you are.”

Lezard hadn’t been able to stop himself, or the anger. “We could never be considered similar to that of the undead!” He had snapped out in protest. “They see us only as a food source and as a way to bolster the size of their armies. What they don’t destroy, they make use of...”

“You know this, and yet it is YOUR kind that STILL falls the fastest when it comes to the undead and their seductions.” Odin had made a chiding sound then, the God having shaken his head as though in disbelief. “Is Hel’s domain so horrible that so many of you would prefer the life of an undead to the eternal rest of Nifleheim?”

“Rest?” Lezad hadn’t been able to stop himself in time, the mage scoffing. “Is that what you equate her tortures to?” He had shook his head then, biting at his tongue. “No, Lord Odin. I can say neither Hel’s torture, nor that of an eternity spent as one of the undead, neither one makes for an attractive option.” His tone had turned bitter then, Lezard unable to keep the anger and the disgust, the disdain, from seeping into his voice. “But then the paradise fields of Asgard have long been denied us. Denied to all but that of the elite who have fought and died in YOUR name.”

Such bold face impertinence, fact though it may have been, should have seen Lezard struck down dead. Instead the God had seemed to enliven to the topic, actually having tried to debate the merits of HIS way with Lezard.

“You think it wrong of me to deny some paradise?” Odin had asked, pausing long enough to receive Lezard’s stiff nod of agreement. “Ah, but what is the promise of paradise if it was freely give to any and all?” Odin had wondered out loud. “One must work to achieve it, and my demands are not so harsh...”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” He hadn’t been able to keep from sounding rude. “Not everyone can fight. Not everyone is..”

“Anyone can fight.” Odin had interrupted him. “It just takes skill and practice to be able to fight well.”

“Are you saying then, that you would have everyone fight then? The untrained and those without any skill? The sick and the elderly, the children and their mothers all going to the slaughter, just for the chance to get into your paradise?” The shock that he had felt, had nearly left Lezard shaking. On some level he had known and accepted that the God was an arrogant being, but to be faced with the disdain and the lack of empathy that Odin so clearly had, had almost been more than Lezard could stomach. 

His upset and anger would only grow worst in the face of Odin’s calm retort. “That is a choice left entirely to the mortals.” 

His blood had boiled over with his anger, with the frustration and the despair that this cruel deity had helped inspire. With that seething rage inside him, Lezard had never felt more a danger, that reckless anger uncaring, wanting to lash out against the insult that was the God Odin. It would have bee suicide to even try, the strength of Lezard’s magic still not strong enough to take out a God. 

That vast difference between them, both in age and in power, and the rapidly fading chance of the salvation that Lezard had still stubbornly hoped for, those were what had stayed him. His magic and his tongue, Lezard breathing out an exasperated breath as he had struggled to get himself under control. A flash of braided platinum, the Valkyrie that he had so admired having stepped into just the edge of his vision, had Lezard then turning. 

The sight of her had calmed the worst of his fury, Lezard able to then breathe better, to think clearer. But not even the Valkyrie could chase away his disgust, the repulsed feelings that Odin himself had continued to inspire.

The God hadn’t seemed to have noticed, hadn’t realized, or just hadn’t cared. Lezard was inclined to believe it had been the latter, Odin clearly an existence that didn’t much care what others had thought. About him, or about much of anything, the God considering himself superior. Such arrogance the likes of which Lezard had never known, Odin was in sore need of a smack down.

Such a reckoning would not be made by mortal hands. At least not in so physical and permanent a way. But there were OTHER ways to strike a blow to Odin’s ego, to take from him the things he most valued. It was a knowledge that Lezard had, a secret that could and would steal from Odin the very things needed to empower Hel to realize her ambitions. It brought a very real dilemma to Lezard’s heart, the struggle of right versus wrong, the desire of what he had wanted and what he had hoped, leaving the mage conflicted. 

His salvation possibly in reach, and Lezard had still hesitated. Odin hadn’t known enough to keep quiet, the very sound of the God’s voice a grating annoyance.

“How desperate must your queen be.”

There had been no reaction from him, Lezard instead choosing to stare straight ahead. To keep focused on the lovely warrior, the vision in cobalt blue that had so effortlessly caught hold of his interest. Her braided hair was in constant motion, Lezard unable to catch a lasting impression of the entirety of the Valkyrie’s face. 

“Hel has to realize that she is wasting time, both hers and MINE.” Odin had continued. “I will never trust her enough to make that alliance.”

“Do you fear her then?” Lezard had dared to ask. Odin had rewarded the absurdity of that question with his smug laughter.

“Not in the slightest.” Odin had turned ti boasting once more. “She is no match for me.”

By the strength that he had sensed was contained inside the God, Lezard had known that much to be true. “Alone yes, but perhaps...”

“She thinks to get help?” Odin had guessed then at Lezard’s silence. “From who...none would dare...”

“The undead might.” Lezard hadn’t been able to keep from needling the God.

“Brahms” Odin had hissed. “Is HE Hel’s game?” Lezard had merely shrugged his shoulders in response, thinking it interesting how bothered the idea of an alliance between Hel and the undead Lord had made the God act. Lezard had even gone so far as to privately wonder if there might be some weakness that was there to exploit. 

“So she thinks to force my hand, does she?” Odin had been all but muttering that, the divine energy that had leaked off the god, a power that had spiked with his agitation. Again Lezard had only shrugged in answer to Odin’s voice, the mage patiently focused on the Valkyrie, on the wish to see her face for longer than a few seconds.

His silence had only added to the God’s unease, Odin having continued his musings out loud. “She really is desperate….”

“Aren’t we all.” Lezard had murmured.

“Or maybe she has grown tired of waiting.” Odin had accused. 

“Centuries of failed negotiation attempts would do that to anyone.” Lezard’s tone had been pointed then, none too subtly reminding the God of just how hard the Goddess had tried at forming an alliance between the underworld and the heavens. The alliance itself had been nothing more than a sham, an excuse to set up Odin for the betrayal that Hel was itching for. 

There had a long pause, Odin having digested the words. “Is your Queen REALLY intent on an alliance?” Odin had finally asked, his thoughtful tone laced with suspicion. “Or it it something more? Does Hel seek something beyond that?”

It had been too close to the truth. Lezard had been glad for the distraction of the Valkyrie, watching the figure of her battling form dance across the battlefield. The sight of her brought such an immense pleasure to him, a lifting joy to his heart that had helped to center and calm his inner being. 

Odin had sounded frustrated then, the God bothered by Lezard’s lack of reaction. It didn’t stop the deity from trying, from attempting to pry the truth of Hel’s ambitions from him. “She couldn’t be thinking of stirring trouble.” He had said. “She’s not THAT stupid.”

“Oh, and what trouble would that be?” Lezard hadn’t been entirely able to resist baiting Odin.

“You tell me.” Odin had answered in a level tone.

Lezard had almost smirked then, ready to bait his hook, when it had happened. A pivot of her heel, the platinum haired Valkyrie having turned for some reason. There had been a loud, sickening squelch of sound, the Goddess sword having then thrust forward, the blood and gore covered tip protruding out of the back of a monster. Already in awe of her as a woman, and as a warrior, it was her sheer brute strength that had reminded Lezard that this was no ordinary female. With that strength and her ability, the Goddess having taken on a monster nearly triple her size. 

The monster had howled out it’s pain, a wail of such immense agony that any and all who had heard it, had known it for the creature’s death knell. Clawed limbs had dropped down to dangle limply at it’s sides, the monster’s immense weight only doubling, staying upright only due to Goddess and her sword. When it would finally hit against the ground, the sharp thud of sound had made the very Heavens themselves shake, Lezard barely able to keep upright. 

The ground had been unstable, HE had been unstable, Lezard inhaling a sharp breath at the sight of the Goddess’ face bathed in the moonlight. With the pale glow of the moon upon her, with her skin so white and so smooth, with the gleam of the few platinum strands that had slipped free of her braid, Lezard saw the Valkyrie’s face fully for the first time.

That stark loveliness, that ethereal beauty, it had been a sight that had left him staggered for breath, his very heart having felt as thought it had leaped to his throat to choke him. That sweetheart face, those soft pouting lips, lent an air of divine sensuality to her, the Goddess a vision that would have fit just as perfect in his bed as she so clearly did on the battlefield. 

Without even having realized it, Lezard had then made a sound. Some strangled noise of his blatant admiration. For it had been that precise moment, that the awestruck mage had known that this was a woman, a goddess worth obtaining. For it had been just the chance of worshiping at her feet, that Lezard had realized that he would pay any price.

“Ah...” Odin had noted just where Lezard’s attention had gone. “Her name is Lenneth.” He had then said. “A most favored daughter, her accomplishments as a Valkyrie number in the thousands.”

“Lenneth.” Lezard had breathed out her name with all of the awe and reverence that should have been the God’s due. Instead the mage had been dismissive, completely ignoring Odin in favor of the warrior Goddess.

Odin hadn’t seemed to have minded, the God going so far as to seize upon the opportunity that this distraction had afforded him. Lezard had been vaguely aware of the questions, the none too subtle prying that the divine Lord had attempted. Lezard hadn’t been able to answer, hadn’t wanted to, simply too focused on the Valkyrie. Too lost to the feelings that she had aroused inside him, those unfamiliar longing leaving him struggling. The infatuation and that wholehearted desire, Lezard having been lost, helpless to do anything but stare enrapt.

It had all been so new to him. The feelings that had birthed to life inside of him had been so wholly different from anything that Lezard had ever felt, any experience that the man had ever had. No woman could compare, no female had ever even tried, his heart almost hurting with the need that had come alive inside of him. 

Driven by the need to possess the Goddess for his own, there had been no other choice. No other hope, Lezard having put aside his doubts and his disgust. If I am to tell you anything of any lasting importance, we will need a suitable and secure place.” Lezard had laid out the first of his cards to Odin, his eyes still on the Valkryie. On Lenneth, her armored figure the motivating force behind his every word now.

“Can one of Hel’s agents even be capable of the truth that I require?”

“When the...reward is valued enough, THIS one can.” He had heard Odin’s chuckle then, had felt the spike in power a moment before the ether had hit him. For one second Lezard had thought that he had been betrayed, that Odin had chosen instead to strike him down. It had made him panic, a protest in his throat that came out a startled squeak as Lezard found himself dropped to his hands and knees 

Instead of the rough and uneven grass and ground of the plains of Idavoll, Lezard had felt the smooth pearl like texture of a floor. He had opened his eyes, had seen the pristine white underneath him, the floor stretching out for miles before him. It ended at the foot of a dais, a deep royal purple coloring the velvet carpets that draped over the stairs. His eyes had traveled upwards, Lezard taking in a vague impression of marble columns, and walls that were gilded with silver and gold. There had even been a twinkle of the light, the gleaming facets of jewels arranged into decorative patterns on the ceiling. They had looked like a multi color of stars, spread out against a midnight blue backdrop.

It was an impressive sight, one that not only rivaled Eljudnir, but outshone it. Light and airy to Eljudnir’s dark, Queen Hel’s castle was a cold and stark place. For all of it’s wealth, and its carefully crafted beauty, Eljudnir had never felt like a home so much as a prison. With its sinister shadows, and the danger everywhere, death had lurked in it’s every corner. 

Castle Valhalla was it’s complete opposite in every way. It didn’t matter that they were at the heart of a battefield, that the castle and it’s surrounding lands were constantly besieged by that of the armies of the undead. There was a warmth here, a prevailing sense of comfort and ease that was suffused into the very foundation of the building. It gave off the illusion that one was safe, that one was protected, by the castle and by the very beings who lived on inside it.

At the top of the dais, on a throne that looked to be made out of silver and gold, had sat the God, Odin. His pose had been one that had belied his impatience, the God drumming agitated fingers against the gold gilded arm rest. 

In the moment, Odin had very much reminded Lezard of Queen Hel, the Goddess often having done similar from atop her ebony throne. “Well, mortal? Speak!” 

“Do you honestly think me so foolish?” Lezard had questioned with a mocking lift of his brow. “I am not so stupid as to betray one God without securing the promise and protection of another.”

Odin had been outraged. “You DARE presume you have ANY right to my promises?!”

“It is that daring that will keep me alive.” Lezard had countered. His expression had been tight, the mage unable to so much as smile, the moment, the promise, too serious for anything else. “You must give me your word that no harm will befall me. Not from your hand, and not from that of your people.”

It would take Odin time to answer, the God slowly considering the mage’s request. Several long minutes would pass before the God would then nod. “So be it.” He had said but not without grumbling. “I swear on my father’s name and all that I hold holy, that no harm shall be done to you by me, or by my people.” He had flashed a disarming smile then, Odin’s words holding a none too subtle threat. “I cannot swear the same of your Queen.”

Lezard had had to stifle a shudder. “She can never know that I am telling you this. No one can.” He had braced himself then to be unflinching, Lezard exhaling a deep breath as he had admitted the following truth. “Queen Hel is not in the market to ally with you. She has NEVER held that as her true desire.”

“That is not much of a surprise.” Odin had admitted.”But then why waste the time and the resources on such a ploy? How many of her minions have I already slain for her ruse?”

“Thousands.” Lezard had readily answered. 

“So many lives wasted...Whatever is the point?”

“On the off chance you’d fall for it.” Lezard had stated. “Hel has want of so much, has the ambition and the desire to take what she can---ALL that she can.”

“If it’s a war that she wants…”

“Hel knows she couldn’t win with a direct assault. Not as things now stand, not even with your resources spent fighting against the undead. Crazy that she may be, my Queen is not stupid.” Lezard had told him. “Instead she seeks the advantage that your distraction with Brahms’ undead will give her.”

“Midgard?” Odin had guessed with a growl. “She thinks to take over my holdings in that realm.”

“It’s more than just Midgard that Hel is after.” The outward calm that he had projected, had been at odds with the racing beat of his heart. “She wants your everything, and Hel is not afraid to use any and all means to get it.”

“What can she do?” Odin had scoffed.

“What can’t she do?” The mage had countered. “She’s a Goddess in her own right..”

“She is INSANE!”

“She is also determined.” Lezard had pointed out. “If given the enough time, the right resources, and the information needed, even Hel would become a formidable opponent.” 

“I’ll deny her all that and more!” Odin had snapped out a roar, pounding a fist against his throne’s arm rest. 

“Do you really think you can stop her? When she has already had centuries to prepare?” Lezard had asked. 

“Tell me everything.” Odin had then ordered. 

It was almost TOO easy, Lezard had thought, to gain the God’s undivided attention if not his trust. It would have only taken a few more subtle twists, and Lezard was certain he could have carried out Hel’s plan. The sham of an alliance he could have forged, Lezard than prying secrets, the weaknesses from Odin and his followers. With just a few words, Lezard could have realized Nifleheim’s ambitions, conquering the realms with the very knowledge gleaned from Creation’s own ruler.

“Not so fast.” Lezard had said out loud. “I have a few...demands of my own.”

“Oh?” Odin’s eyes had narrowed further with his suspicion. “And what else would you beg a favor of?”

“Two things.” Lezard had been calm, his fingers having adjusted the glasses that sat over the bridge of his nose. “There are two things that only you can grant to me.” There was a long pause, the God glaring hatefully down at Lezard. Odin had seemed to stare right through him, the God’s thoughts clearly elsewhere, a debate raging on inside him. Lezard would stand there patiently, waiting until at last Odin had sagged slightly with defeat.

“Go on.” He had said in an exhausted tone of voice. 

“I want paradise.” Lezard had hastened to explain. “I want your guarantee that when I die, it will not be to Hel’s underworld that I go to.” He had folded his arms across his chest, Lezard’s lifting his chin up stubbornly in response to Odin’s bark of mocking laughter.

“A sinner like you in Asgard’s paradise?” Odin had shook with his laughter. “That will never happen.”

“You can make it possible.” Lezard had argued.

“And why would I? What could you possibly know that would ever make me allow such a thing?:

“If you knew what I knew...if you had any idea of the full enormity of Hel’s plans...” Lezard had shaken his head then, stopping himself from saying too much. “Instead of HER spy, I will be YOURS. The past, the future, and most assuredly the present, all her secrets and her plans will be revealed to you.” 

With a persuading tone, Lezard tried to sway Odin to his side. “You can’t even begin to imagine what she has already done. The alliances that she had made, the plans that Hel had already set in motion.”

“She’d be a fool to attack me head on...” Odin had protested. “Her armies...”

“Are only growing in size.”

“With what and with who? The damned and the undeserving?” Odin had jeered then. “I am not afraid, and I am not worried. They will NEVER be enough to annihilate the Heavens.” 

Lezard almost hadn’t been able to believe just how big a fool that Odin had been acting. Had he really been that powerful, or had it just been overconfidence that had led the God to believe that Hel might never become a threat? 

“How could you have not noticed?” He had asked Odin that, rather than outright insult him. “Have you really no idea of the drop in your own forces? Have you not been told of the dwindling numbers when it comes to newly acquired einherjar?” By the expreesion that had been on Odin’s face, it had been clear that the God had, and that that fact had troubled him greatly. Lezard had pressed the advantage, his voice almost whisper soft then. “It is by no mere coincidence. Your lack of new recruits are all through Hel’s designs.”

“What has she done?!” Odin had demanded in a hoarse tone of voice.

"I will play the spy for you both." Lezard had said instead of answering Odin's question. "You will give me harmless information to relay to my Queen. Enough tidbits to make her think I am successful at her mission. And all the while, I will be giving to you Hel's secrets and plans."

"So you would play the double agent then." Lezard had nodded at that. "And how would I know you are not playing me for a fool, and instead feeding Hel the information that would damn Asgard in the process?"

“”You’ll just have to hope that my trust has been well bought.”

“Trust does not come easily, especially when dealing with one who bears Hel’s mark.” Odin had gruffly pointed out.

“It’s a trust that you will have to give all the same if you’re to stand any chance of defeating Hel and her plans.” Lezard had calmy stepped back, his tone of voice practically detached as he had begun to detail the first stage of his plan. “If I’m to pull this off, we will have to make it seem as though you really have bought into Hel’s deception.” He had stroked his chin as though in deep thought, Lezard pretending to have to think about it. “As a token of the alliance, I think a gift is in order.”

“I’ll not give that bitch a single thing more!” Odin had snapped.

“It’s not a gift for that Goddess.” Lezard had retorted. “It’s a gift for ME.”

“For you?!”

“Call it a token of appreciation, a symbol of just how highly you favor my help in smoothing things over between the heavens and the underworld.” Lezard had explained with a smile.

“And I suppose this gift would be the second of your demands?” A wry tone of voice had accompanied the God’s glare, Lezard only smiling all the more widely at him.

“You know me all too well.”

“I know you not at all.” The God had said with a rude snort of sound. He had then given an impatient gesture with his hand, signaling Lezard to get on with it. The mage had then smirked in response, his eyes looking a little too eager, as he had explained how he had wanted a certain Valkyrie for his bride.

The God’s outraged response was as startling as it had been expected, Lezard quick to understand just why Odin would think that too high a favor to grant. A Valkryie with a sinner, with a blaspheming follower of the underworld’s Goddess? It was unheard of, an unspoken taboo that Odin hadn’t been prepared to break. It had left Lezard scrambling, the mage working to not only remind Odin of just what he was owed, but of the threat of Hel. The threat and the reasons why they had need to fool her into thinking Odin believed in the alliance.

“What better way than that?” Lezard had demanded. “What better proof do you have than granting Hel’s emissary a highly sought after prize?” Odin had still look unconvinced, the God shaking his head no with a frown. Lezard’s vocie had taken on a cajoling tone, the mage trying to make the deity see the validity of it. “It’s the only way...”

“You ask for much.” Odin had snarled in response. “Many would say TOO much.”

“Given the danger I am putting myself in, the risks that I am and will be taking, some would say I don’t ask for ENOUGH,” Lezard had countered. “I could be killed.” He had added. “In fact, Hel would do WORSE than just kill me.” The risks weighted out in his mind, Lezard had thought of everything that he had stood to lose. His life, his home, his power, his prestige, and of course his very soul. With so much at stake, it wasn’t just fitting, it was a deserved reward that he had asked for and expected. 

That reward his to dictate, Lezard had felt the satisfaction curl across his lips, Odin having at last nodded his head in agreement. Triumph and a dizzying sense of relief had then filled him, Lezard almost swaying in place with the excited disbelief that the Valkryie Lenneth would soon be his.

His elation had been short lived, Odin’s gaze narrowing into a sharp focus. “You shall have my Lenneth as your bride.” He had said, as a finger raised in warning. “BUT! At a cost to you.”

“A cost?” Lezard had sputtered in disbelief, watching as Odin had then smiled at him.

“You have asked me for two extremely valuable prizes. But you only offer me enough service for ONE.” Odin’s expression had blazed malevolent, his smile twisting into an expression of pure evil. “”If you take a Valkyrie as your bride, Asgard’s paradise will be forever denied to you.” The God had paused, sneering down at Lezard’s shocked expression. “What will it be mortal?” Odin had then asked, leaning forward in his seat, intent on the mage’s answer. “Lenneth or paradise?”

Once if told of this dilemma, Lezard wouldn’t have even hesitated, the man certain of just what he would have chosen. The Lezard of just a day ago, wouldn’t have dreamed of anything else, eternity’s paradise that coveted a goal. One frozen moment on the Plains of Idavoll had changed all that, the remembered vision of supreme loveliness bolstering his strength. With not a single ounce of hesitation, without even any regrets, or a second thought, Lezard had boldly met the Lord God’s sneer, and had stated the following.

"I would rather have a lifetime of paradise with Lenneth as my bride, then spend an eternity in Asgard without her."

There had been an unreadable look in the God’s eyes, Odin having stared down at him. “So be it.” He had agreed in a grave tone of voice, the very building itself then shaking in the advent of those three simple words. The very promise of them had been written into Lezard’s soul, the bargain sealed and made irreversibly final. 

Even then he hadn’t known regret, Lezard calm and accepting rather than panicked by what he had just done. Lenneth had been all that he had been able to think about, all that he had wanted to focus on, Lezard eager to learn any and everything that there was about his bride to be. Odin hadn’t let him, the God instead insisting that they had had much to talk about. Everything from the plans Hel had been making, to the reason behind the shortage of new warriors. The hows and they whys of what she had done. Lezard had told Odin it all, had endured the questions and the fury, Odin enraged by Hel and her mad schemes. The schemes that had been working, her interference such that the Valkyrie had barely been able to gather any new soldiers for Odin’s war.

All in all, it had taken a good four hours to satisfy the enraged God and his questions, Lezard exhausted by what had amounted to an interrogation. Odin hadn’t allowed the mage the same kind of scrutiny, the God evasive when asked just when and how Lenneth would arrive in Flenceburg. The one and only reassurance that Lezard had had was that the Goddess would not be hurt in the process.

Lezard had never dreamt of the mental anguish that Odin would instead inflict on his Valkyrie. The hurt and the grief, Lenneth the one and only survivor of an ambush that should have seen all of the Asgardians dead. Tortured by the guilt of it, and by the loss of her sister, Lenneth had arrived and been blindsided by a truth she should have already known and been prepared for. 

~Damn him!~ Lezard had thought again. He was so angry with Odin, so angry and so hurt, and made absolutely furious by Odin’s neglect. By the sabotage he had done, Odin quick to turn his back on a promise, and leaving Lenneth to think that she was being punished. 

It was more than just the lack of information that Lenneth had been given, the explanations that Odin himself had owed her. It was the danger the God had let his Valkyrie walk into, Lezard sickened by the idea that for the grace of the undead king, Lenneth would have instead died in the ambush’s slaughter. 

The danger and the lack of explanations all the things that went against what Odin had promised, Lezard couldn’t help wondering just what else the God might have gone back on. Just what else woud he try, Lezard determined to not let Odin have so complete a victory in making a mess of his private life. The mage would fight tooth and nail for his happiness, for his chance at a future with Lenneth as his bride. That sweet bliss that he had so sought now seemed all but impossible, the odds stacked so neatly against him, Lenneth horrified by what she had discovered. She hadn’t even been able to hide it, the woman’s lack of expertise when it came to deceit and to subterfuge apparent, her eyes, her very expression open and honest, and thoroughly affected by the spell. That love that she was enchanted to feel, it hindered her further, Lenneth frustrated and struggling, trying to keep from being taken over by the full effects of Odin’s enchantment.

It left her in a constant state of assault, Lenneth’s mind in agony, tortured not just by Odin, not just by the loss of her sister and her comrades, but by the very love that the Valkyrie had been enchanted to feel. It was that love, that struggle that made her so honest, that left her unable to school her expressions, Lenneths every horrified thought laying revealed in the stricken gleam of her eyes. 

She didn’t hate him. She COULDN’T, Odin’s enchantment simply too strong. It didn’t stop the fear and the upset, the blatant horror from manifesting, Lenneth reeling in place. She was a pale skinned perfection, the dismay of her expression an equally arresting sight. The woman’s mouth actually trembled with her upset, the determined set of her jaw offset by the defiance that struggled to blaze bright in her eyes. She wasn’t happy. With him, or with where she had ended up, and Lezard couldn’t blame her. Not when he knew how it might feel to be in her shoes, to have had the position and power reversed.

Of course, if by some reason, Lezard had been the one to find himself stranded in an enemy nation, the mage would have also found a way to make the best of the situation. He was after all anything but stupid, Lezard quite calculating and sly. There was a brilliance to him, a mad genius that didn’t just have to do with his magic, Lezard able to both manipulate and play the game of those around him. It was what he had thrived at, Lezard working the angles so that he had always emerged on top. He had fought, schemed and earned his way to his position, Lezard lord of a nation. 

Flenceburg was both the only home that the man had ever known, and the field in which he had honed all of his skills. It was a nation that could and would break you, an immense strength need to survive it. That strength had always been a part of Lezard, the man all but clawing his way from the cradle to the throne. He had stepped on so many, had done so much evil in the name of surviving, and never had the sorcerer had a true need to protect another. Never had he wanted to, and never like the way he now did with Lenneth. 

It wasn’t that he thought the former Goddess a weakling. But there was a vulnerability to her, a softness exposed that had everything to do with her mental torment, that hurt that she was feeling made all the stronger by the enchantment that she was under. Lezard wanted to spare her from it, wanted to take Lenneth into his embrace and assure her that everything would turn out all right. He had no real guarantees of it, Lezard aware that Lenneth was in danger, surrounded by enemies of a far different kind.

What might be her greatest threat had then appeared, a large group of women spilling out into the hall. The relative quiet of the servants were disrupted by the giggling gaggle of nobles, the women dressed in their brightly colored and expensive finery, enough silken frills and imported lace to profit an entire kingdom.

The wealth was on display, but not so much a sense of good taste. The women in their form fitting, and revealing clothing, lighting up with excitement at the sight of their Lord. At the sight of the women with him, the group hurrying forward. 

“There he is!” Came the exclamation, the crowd parting enough so that a tall leggy blonde would take the lead. Her gold spun hair had been left unadorned, and had blazed bright against the deep purple of her gown. There was an emerald colored lacing edging her bodice’s curves, the waist cinched tight to give her an even more slender appearance. She was admittedly beautiful, and yet Lezard had felt not a thing when it came to desire. Instead, the man had to stifle a groan at the sight of the woman, having hoped against hope that this moment could have been avoided.

“Hello Mystina.” Lezard couldn’t stop the audible sigh of exasperation, or keep the annoyance that he felt from showing. The man felt as though he had barely been heard, barely been noticed, Mystina and her group slinking past him with excited murmurs.

“Is that her?” One had asked. “Is that the Valkyrie?”  
“Oh but she is lovely.” Another had sighed in admiration. 

“Look at her hair!” Another had exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such an unnatural color.”

“It’s beautiful.” Another had whispered, trying to reach out to Lenneth. The Goddess had turned, side stepping the touch that would have stroke reverence over that braided hair, but there was no avoiding the group of woman who had moved to surround her.

“Ladies, don’t crowd her so!”

“Oh, do relax, Lezard.” It had been Mystina who had spoken, though her tone and her words had hardly been reassuring. “They’ve just never seen a Valkyrie before.” A murmur of agreement from her companions, the awestruck compliments continuing. They were all so focused on her appearance, and on what Lenneth had once been, the women scrutinizing the Valkyrie. Asking her a million and one questions, and seeming oblivious to the unease in the woman’s eyes. 

It had been more than just unease. Lenneth had been tensing up for a fight, her fingers flexing as though she would curl her hands into a fist. Her eyes had kept on darting from one face to another, Lenneth trying to watch all of them, and failing to keep from being touched. The onslaught of questions continued, some of them bordering on rude. It didn’t seem to matter that Lenneth was not trying to answer ANY of them, Mystina and her group far too excited and curious to care.

If it had been anyone else, if it had been any other woman, Lezard might have been amused. Instead for Lenenth, a strange sort of pity roused on the heels of his strong surging anger. The magic crackled inside him, raised the hairs on everyone’s neck. A few wide eyed looks were cast his way, the more talented of the bunch sensing Lezard’s desire. His temptation to unleash an offensive spell. With that broiling energy inside him, with the power ghosting along his skin, most of the women wisely stepped out of his way. The blonde Mystina wore the utmost in annoyed expressions, the woman glaring narrowed eyes at him as Lezard reached forward and grasped hold of his Goddess’ hand. She didn’t quite flinch, Lenneth allowing Lezard to pull her free of the complaining group of women. Mystina’s voice would be the loudest, the angriest, the woman shouting after him that he wouldn’t be able to keep the Valkyrie all to himself. Lezard hadn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, instead breaking them into an abrupt run.

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 9.29.2017 Man this one took me over a week to rewrite. It was more than just an overhaul, I had to trash and start practically from scratch so much of this. See I always felt seven was one of the weaker chapters. Like when I had wrote the original, I had the ideas, but I completely mishandled explaining and fleshing out and presenting most of the concepts in this chapter. I think this new version is a million times better, and I hope you’ll agree it was well worth my time to rework. :)
> 
> \---Michelle


	8. Eight

Lenneth was still reeling from the horror of her discovery, from the knowledge that she was in the midst of an enemy nation. Her horror was only overshadowed by the facts she knew as truth, Odin trying to enchant her to love a man who followed the Underworld's Queen. Her King would have her be slave to him, her heart lost to a foolish love. There were no bars around her, but Lenneth felt the cage closing around her all the more surely. Flenceburg would be her prison, and this Lezard her jailor.

A lesser woman might have despaired then and there. But Lenneth was first and foremost a Valkyrie maiden, and she called upon the inner strength that had served her well for centuries of battle. She would not give in to her upset, nor would she panic. Not until she understood the situation better. Lenneth wondered if she was deluding herself into hoping there was a higher purpose for her arrival in Flenceburg. It was a sliver of hope she grasped onto, Lenneth wishing she could continue to do her holy work here in the midst of Asgard's enemies.

Her King might have betrayed her, but Lenneth would not turn her back on her former home land. Or on the Gods and Goddesses she had devoted her immortality to serving. She thought of the many Valkyries she had left behind, all sisters by the blade who would be disappointed if Lenneth simply gave up and accepted her fate to be nothing more than some damned man's wife.

That man was walking several feet in front of her, seeming far too trusting in presenting his back to her. Lezard must truly think she was tamed, and perhaps Odin's love enchantment did give him a measure of protection from Lenneth. She certainly found a reluctance seated deep inside her at the thought of striking down this man, though Lenneth was sure she could overcome it if pressed. After all, had she not already fought off the worse of Odin's spell? Her heart was still hers, even if every moment that passed was a struggle not to give in to love.

Lenneth's fingers were flexing, her hands itching to curl into fists. She stared at Lezard's back, trailing behind him by several paces. She wasn't looking at their surroundings anymore, not interested in his tour. She was too busy trying not to go mad, to not loose any semblance of control in a situation that was most definitely not hers to command.

She took stock of the situation in her mind, quickly noting the odds that were against her. She was left alone in an enemy nation, friendless and currently without weapons. What could Lenneth hope to do? What could she afford NOT to do? Even as she pondered these thoughts, Lenneth had a great deal many questions to ask. Lezard seemed the only source of information available to her currently. But Lenneth had seen how he had evaded her earlier question, the man harboring a reluctance to reveal the exact details of how he had come to acquire a Valkyrie as his bride.

She wondered at the need for secrecy in that regard. But it wasn't a question that needed to be answered now. Not when other matters pressed more insistently at her mind. Lenneth relaxed her hands, ready to demand answers in a point blank manner. It was beyond her to sweetly beguile Lezard into revealing what she wanted to know, Lenneth more used to forceful interrogation, than sly subterfuge.

She moistened her lips with her tongue, a nervous expression of her inner turmoil. Her lips started to part with a question, and then a door was violently thrown open. Lenneth immediately tensed, expecting an attack. She was hardly put at ease when a group of women hurried through the door, their arrival bringing a bustle of noise as they giggled and chattered, their clothing rustling.

"Ah! There he is!" The tallest of the women had noticed Lezard, her lips curving in a triumphant smile. She and her group would walk a path through the wide corridor, but most of them were looking not at Lezard but at Lenneth. The sight of the Valkyrie seemed to make the women talk even louder, eyes traveling over Lenneth's form, and nudging each other with elbows. 

Lenneth didn't know what to make of this reaction, the Valkyrie still locked in a defensive posture. She may not have had any swords or daggers available to her, but her whole body could be used as a weapon. Nor did she assume the giggling group of finely dressed females were weak. They were after all in Flenceburg, and by the look of their fine clothing, part of the nobility. Lenneth knew enough of Flenceburg to know some of the most power mages were born of wealthy and noble families. And all because they were able to afford the best educations.

Lezard had greeted the leader of these women, giving the name Mystina to the tall blonde. Lenneth locked eyes with her for one instant, the bold green alight with curiosity. And then she was lost as the crowd of women hurried forward, Lenneth quickly finding herself surrounded. She tasted power emanating off at least two of the women, one stronger than the other. But there was no attack coming, the women more curious than hostile.

Lenneth didn't understand their curiosity, holding her defensive stand. Someone reached out for her hair, and Lenneth turned, ready to lash out with her arm to stop that touch. But just as quickly as she stopped one from touching her, three more were making the attempt. It wasn't just her hair they were interested in, one touching the heavy skirts of her dress, while another grazed a finger down Lenneth's arm.

She couldn't understand everything that was being said to her. The women were all talking a rapid mile a minute, voices mingling together. But Lenneth caught a fragment here and there, the women seeming in awe of her. Lenneth didn't understand it, anymore than she could fathom the reason behind the admiring gazes she was receiving.

"Ladies, don't crowd her so!" That was Lezard's voice, the man exasperated even as he tried to command the group.

"Relax Lezard!" The woman Mystina's tone was more insolent than reassuring, a shrewd look in her eye as she gazed at Lenneth. "We just want to admire the Valkyrie!"

Lenneth was hardly appeased to hear that, nor was she at ease with the look the blonde gave her. The women were continuing to push in close, crowding her. Lenneth felt as though they were choking out the air around her, the women's looks unsettling. It reminded her of the feeling she had had on the battlefield the night before she was to escort Silmeria to Alfeim. When she had felt as though someone had been looking at her, past her armor and battle maiden exterior, to see the vulnerable woman beneath. She was very close to attacking, to lashing out in response to the women crowding her.

And then the questions started. Too many to follow, and even more she didn't want to answer. 

"What's it like being a Goddess?"

"Is it true you're mortal now?"

"What's Asgard like?" 

"Is Valhalla as beautiful as it is rumored to be?"

"Are all the Valkyrie as beautiful as you?"

And then, in the midst of all the questions, a hand grasped hers. Lenneth turned so fast, her braid whipped one of the females in the face. She didn't offer an apology, her eyes going wide as she met Lezard's. He didn't quite smile at her, tightening his hand around hers. Lenneth hesitated one brief moment, and then she gripped his hand back. 

"What are your feelings for your new husband?" The focus of the questions had changed, the women now interested in the dynamic between Lezard and Lenneth. She still wouldn't answer, staring at Lezard's back as he began shoving the women aside with his free hand. He dragged her forward before the women could close the circle to trap her again, and all the while the ladies whined and protested his rescue of Lenneth.

"Lezard stop!" Mystina shouted over the protesting women. It was apparent though he would not listen, the woman huffing out an angry breath. "You can't keep the Valkyrie all to yourself!"

The women all made agreeing sounds, and Lenneth thought they would actually follow after them. Lezard would break into an unexpected run, Lenneth using her free hand to haul her skirts up high enough so she wouldn't trip over them. It was no effort at all to keep up with the mage, the two running through the halls of the castle. Lenneth would catch a startled gaze here and there, the men and women that moved through the halls shocked at their sudden and hurried passage.

There was several flights of stairs navigated, the pair descending to the ground level of the castle. Curious gazes seemed to greet them wherever they went, a fact that served to agitate her betrothed further. He'd continue to lead her by the hand, Lezard taking a side corridor that began to empty out of people the further along it they traveled. 

Lenneth would catch sight of half open doors, the rooms' furnishings plainer than what had been on the upper levels of the castle. Some rooms had several single person beds crammed into them, so that six people would share the small space nightly. Other rooms seemed to exist simply for storage purposes, Lenneth spying barrels, boxes, and shelves crammed full of things. One room appeared to be a tool shed, and the largest of the rooms that awaited them at the end of the corridor was a kitchen big enough to feed a castle that had to house over two hundred people.

The kitchen was bustling at this time a day. Already a dozen cooks were preparing the ingredients for the day's next meal. They looked more startled than anything when they saw the Lord of the castle enter, but unlike the nobles, they didn't dare stare for long. Not without the risk of disrespecting their master.

The kitchen was not their final destination. Lezard would lead Lenneth at a more sedate pace past the rows of tables with all manners of fruits and vegetables laid out on their tops, towards a door that was situated next to a sink that was piled high with dirty dishes. This door would lead outside to a wall enclosed area, the green grass, and wild herbs and flowers hardly enough to make a suitable looking garden.

Lezard did not immediately let go of Lenneth's hand, instead turning to look at her. She stared back at him, aware of the warmth of his hand around hers. "This is the servant's herb garden." Lezard said by way of explanation. "We won't be disturbed here...not in the servants' quarters."

Lenneth had already guessed they had entered the servants' part of the castle. It was quieter here, free of the insolently curious looks of the nobles. Lenneth felt a dozen times better to be away from them all, the Valkyrie having felt like a bug in a glass, privy to examinations from any who happened by. She wasn't used to that kind of attention, to the intense stares, and probing questions that was born out of a person's curiosity about her. 

It had been overwhelming. Lenneth was sure Lezard had saved her from doing something unthinkable. For all the attention she had been given, Lenneth hadn't sensed any overt hostility from the group that had surrounded her. And yet she had still wanted to strike out, to send a message that would ward against people idly bothering her. It wouldn't have been a wise reaction, she couldn't afford to make new enemies.

"Thank you." Lenneth said out loud. It was a grudging thanks, Lenneth not wanting to be indebted to Lezard for anything. "Thank you for getting me away from them."

He did a slight nod of his head. "It was my pleasure to rescue a damsel in distress."

His choice of words made her frown, Lenneth abruptly pulling her hand free from his. "I am no weak woman in need of a man to save her."

The color of his eyes seemed to flicker with the light, but if he took offense to her dismissal, Lezard did not show it. "Of course. I meant no offense with my words. It's just...I saw how overwhelmed you were by Mystina and her group. You looked uncomfortable, and I wanted to put an end to that situation. For your sake as well as mine."

She didn't ask what he meant by that. Instead Lenneth stepped closer to a wall that's stone had vines creeping all over it's surface. "What was all that about?" She touched one of the vines, feeling the damp dew on it's skin. Lezard's answer would draw her attention back to him, Lenneth's eyes widening in understanding.

"They've never seen a Valkyrie before."

"Ah." A pause from her, Lenneth considering this. Her immortality had stretched on for centuries if not millennia, and time was such that she didn't always remember when exactly events happened. But now Lenneth concentrated, trying to recall when was the last time a Valkyrie had had any business with the nation of Flenceburg. With any of the Midgard nations that were under Queen Hel's control. From what she could tell, it would have been at least three hundred years since a Valkyrie would have had reason to come to Flenceburg, and that would have been during the last great war between Asgard and the Underworld.

Midgard wasn't completely at peace, but Queen Hel had grown lax in her desire to fight with King Odin. She was more content on lending her aid to the undead that Brahms ruled over, watching from the sidelines rather than engaging in active war. With the Undead's constant presence in Asgard, the Valkyries were too busy to be sent elsewhere. And the mortals of Midgard were not often received in Asgard, save for those who had become einherjar.

Lenneth could grudgingly understand just why her presence in Flenceburg was causing quite a stir. She was the first Valkyrie in years to walk among these people. Even more notorious, she was the first Valkyrie ever to be given to one who owed allegiance to Hel. Of course they would be curious. About her, and about the reasons why she had been allowed to come to Flenceburg in the first place.

It didn't mean she had to like their curiosity. "They will just have to get over it." Lenneth said out loud to Lezard. She was surprised to see the amused look back in his eyes. 

"You underestimate your allure." He told her. She arched an eyebrow in question, not sure what he meant by that. "You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. A former Goddess. Their curiosity will linger for quite some time...for some it will be stronger than others. You'll have to call on tolerance in order to endure their questions. Of course, I will speak to them again about how they shouldn't pester you. But with some, I'm afraid even the sternest of talks will not lessen their desire to learn about you."

"Like that Mystina?" Lenneth's question had Lezard grimacing.

"Yes.." He nodded. "She is...one of a bold and at times forceful attitude. I'm sure she means no harm towards you, but she would be loathe to ignore the opportunity you present to her."

"Opportunity?"

"It's no casual interest she has in you." Lezard explained. "Mystina is a sorceress first, and a scholar second. She is eager to pick your memories for your knowledge of past wars, and even of the heavens themselves."

"If it's war she wants, I can tell her plenty." Lenneth answered in a grim tone. "As for the heavens, I think it best if Asgard's secrets remain it's own." Some unreadable look flashed in Lezard's eyes at that. Lenneth wondered if he had expected her to betray the people of Asgard, to tell their secrets to any and all who would listen. She would never do that, not even under the threat of torture.

"As you prefer." Is all Lezard said out loud.

"I prefer not to be here at all." Lenneth told him, a wistful edge to her voice. Her fingers began crushing the nearest vine, Lenneth staring at the wall as regret and anger warred for dominance inside her. She didn't want to whine, but Lenneth very much felt it unfair that she had been cast out of Asgard. Denied her godhood and right to avenge what had happened to her sister, Silmeria.

"It's understandable." Lezard replied. She did not look at him. "You are in a new place, among strangers. Your world has changed overnight, and left you to flounder until you adapt."

Her fingers flexed, releasing the crushed vine. "And what if I'm never able to adapt?" She asked with a sigh. "I am a warrior. I lived for the battle. For the thrill of fighting. How am I to content myself to be nothing more than a man's wife? Expected to be nothing more than the vessel in which to birth your children?"

"Lenneth!" Was that a thread of anger in Lezard's voice? She turned at hearing it, seeing the heated look on his face. "You will be so much more. Do not ever undersell yourself..."

"But it's the truth." Lenneth retorted. "By Odin's own decree, my fate was sealed."

"Fate is not unchangeable." Lezard insisted. "You can make your own."

"Make my own..." Lenneth echoed softly, than made a scoffing sound. "How? When my free will was attempted to be stripped from me? A spell cast upon my heart to take choice away from me?"

"But you haven't given into that spell." Lezard pointed out. "You don't love me..."

She didn't dare say this out loud, but the words, but I want to, came flashing into her mind. Lenneth took it as more proof of Odin's enchantment trying to impose it's will on her. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palm so that the pain of that action would keep her clear headed. How long had it been since she had awakened? Not even a handful of hours, and already she was tired of fighting the urgings of the spell.

"And what of you?" Lenneth demanded, trying to ignore her troublesome thoughts. "What would you do if I tried to seize a new fate for myself? One that did not include you?"

A quick blink of his eyes, and then he recovered. "I would hope you would be amenable to a future with me. I don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do. But...give me a chance. Let me court you."

An undercurrent of suspicion in her reacted to his words, Lenneth thinking he was not being entirely truthful about that. "Fear not Lezard. I won't go against Odin's orders." In her mind she whispered the words not yet, Lenneth not sure what her resolve would lead her to decide. "Besides." She offered him a wry smile then. "Wherever would I go? I've been cast out of the heavens...made mortal. I have no money to my name, nothing but the clothes on my back."

"So you stay because you are dependent on my kindness?" Lezard didn't look pleased at that.

"I stay because I've been given an order by my King." Lenneth corrected him. "I will not do him or myself dishonor, even if I don't agree with the punishment I've been given."

"I hope that in time you come to look upon me as something other than your punishment for what has happened to your sister." Lezard spoke with honesty in his voice.

"That will be dependent on just how strong Odin's love spell proves to be." Lenneth took no pleasure in crushing any hopes Lezard might harbor in his heart. It was just the truth as she perceived int to be, the love enchantment working diligently from the moment she had been kissed awake.

Lezard did not quite scowl. "It was a mistake of your King to cast that spell." Lenneth's eyes widened in surprise. "It has served neither of us well, and only furthers your suffering."

"That is no fault of Odin's." Lenneth protested. "His spell should have made me love you. If you want to blame anyone, you must blame me for being strong enough to fight off the worse of the enchantment."

"I don't...won't blame you for doing what you must to protect your heart." Lezard answered.

She shrugged in response. "Still it must be a shock to you...expecting to find an obedient, loving Valkyrie for your wife only to instead get saddled with this stubborn, quick tempered shrew." His lips actually quirked in a smile, Lezard amused by her words.

"It just presents us both with a challenge." He told her. 

"And is that the challenge of learning to love one another?" Lenneth asked. She then scoffed. "We don't need love to be married."

"But marriage is all the more sweeter when love is involved." Lezard retorted.

"Are you by chance a romantic at heart?"

"Truthfully....no. I was never one for love...never one for settling down." It was a surprising admission. "It's just another reason for the curiosity that surrounds you. I'm sure they are all curious as to why I would be so taken with a woman to agree to marry her....even if that woman was a Goddess at one point."

"And will you tell me the answer to that?" Lenneth asked.

"Maybe someday I will..." Lezard hedged in response. 

"Why not now?" Lezard just shrugged his shoulders in response. "Will you not ever tell me just how you came to make this arrangement with my King? It is an astonishing feat, to think he would give away one of his Valkyries to his enemies, even one that is as disgraced with defeat as I am."

"It's not a story worth telling." That response of Lezard strongly demanded she drop the subject.

"I don't believe you on that." 

"It is your right to believe or not to believe." Lezard said. "But I'll keep my secrets all the same. It adds to my mystery."

"Hmm..." She made a noncommittal noise, a sound that would tell him nothing of what she believed about his vaunted mysteries. Nor could she entirely drop this subject, Lenneth thinking she might be full of a curiosity similar to that of the women inside the castle. She didn't consider that curiosity a good thing. Nor was she used to being in it's strong grip, Lenneth used to the days when as Valkyrie her questions were answered without hesitation. And those few that would have offered up a resistance, would find themselves quickly on the wrong end of a sword.

But she couldn't exactly use violence against her husband to be. It would bring disgrace to her King, and would alienate her from Lezard. The latter she couldn't afford right now, Lenneth alone in this land. She needed someone, anyone, to be her guide through the pitfalls of being mortal. As her betrothed, that duty fell into Lezard's hands, she was dependent on him just as she had implied earlier.

She shouldn't try to aggravate him. And yet she stepped away from the wall, actually putting herself closer to the mage. "Is my King considering an alliance with your Queen? Is that what you don't want to tell me?" 

"I suppose there's no use in hiding that." A careful nod of his head had Lenneth fighting not to show her displeasure. "This marriage between us...is a step in that direction. It's a..."

"A show of good faith." Lenneth all but growled over his words. "A sign of Odin's willingness to consider throwing in with Hel." Her agitation had increased, Lenneth beginning to pace past Lezard. She thought this a disaster, and Lenneth wondered just how desperate Odin was becoming to even consider allying with the underworld. Had the near endless war with Brahms' faction driven Odin to this decision?

"He's made no final decision in that regard." She wasn't able to hide her dismay, her agitation moving Lezard to attempt a reassurance. It had no effect on her though, Lenneth's thoughts racing with the speed of her pulse. Lenneth wondered how long this had been going on, how long Odin had been considering this potential alliance with Hel. The Valkyries hadn't known. If even one of them had suspected, they would have shared those suspicions with their sisters. It would have caused an unrest among the divine pantheon, dissension spreading throughout the ranks. 

Lenneth couldn't understand what was going through Odin's mind to even consider working with Hel. Nor did she like the thought that her punishment was being used to pave the way for a potential joining of forces between Asgard and Nifleheim. It made her wonder if other Valkyrie would soon be given away to high ranking members of Hel's domain, forced to breed and birth children that would worship the underworld's queen.

She turned to glare at Lezard, the man having stayed rooted in place save for a quick turning to watch her as Lenneth paced around the small garden area. "And you...what role do you play in Hel's kingdom?" She had to know, Lenneth wanting to find out just how big a sinner she was about to be tied to. "You must be important...you rule over this large castle, and you were given a Valkyrie for your bride..."

His own look of displeasure crossed Lezard's face. It was clear he was loathe to answer, as though he had wanted to put off her discoveries for as long as possible. "If I don't tell you, I'm sure Mystina or one of the other gossips will." Grumbled Lezard in discontent. "I am of Queen Hel's inner circle. A commander in her armies, and close enough to her, that the Queen sometimes will confide in me."

Lenneth had stopped her pacing, her glare deepening as she stared at Lezard. The glared masked her tumultuous emotions, her heart beat quickening as dismay and horror washed over her. It was perhaps worse than she had first realized, and it was a shaky voice that Lenneth asked the following. "And what areas of magic are your expertise?"

"Nearly all of them." She sensed it was no idle boast on Lezard's part. 

"All of them?" He nodded, an unfathomable look in his amethyst colored eyes. "Even the dark arts?" He hesitated before nodding slowly. Lenneth brought her hand to her mouth, covering her gasp. She shouldn't be surprised. He had admitted to being part of Hel's inner circle, he was close enough to the Queen for her confidences, and to earn a Valkyrie as his reward. That meant he had to be powerful, and thoroughly mired in the blackest of magic.

But still it was disturbing to be so close to one who used the dark arts, to one who had damned his soul with unspeakable acts. Her reaction she could not hide completely, and it bothered him. Lezard would flash her a bitter smile, his right hand raising so his fingers could adjust his glasses. "There's a word for my kind." He told her, a ruthless determination in his eyes. It was as though he wanted her to understand exactly what he was, Lezard not sparing Lenneth any false illusions as to the nature of his dealings with magic. "Necromancer."

She didn't dare close her eyes, not even for an instant. But she shook all the same, with an unbridled fury that wanted her to strike him down. A soul defiler was before her, one who openly admitted to his criminal nature. Lenneth had thought she had experienced horror before, but that had been nothing compared to what was coursing through her now at the thought of being tied to this man. To letting a necromancer touch her, use her for his own ends. 

Had Odin gone mad to do this to her? She did not know. But Lenneth was unsettled, thinking it beyond cruel to put her in this position. She wondered if any of the other Valkyries knew just how complete a punishment Lenneth had received, if her older sister Hrist knew just what kind of man Lenneth had been given to. Lenneth was sure Hrist did not, for the black haired Valkyrie while detached from the closeness she had shared with Silmeria, was the very definition of honor. She would not have allowed Lenneth to end up with such a man, would have taken actions against it even if it meant going up against Lord Odin.

Once again Lenneth wondered how desperate Odin had become, and just what the situation was like up in Asgard. How dire had it become, how close to losing what mattered were they at? Lenneth needed to speak with Odin, to demand answers from her King. But Lenneth knew she'd never be granted an audience after her exile from Asgard. 

"Do I disgust you?" Lezard's voice cut into her thoughts, Lenneth blinking quickly at him. "Now that you know the nature of my magic?"

"Yes." She instantly retorted, then her voice softened. "And no." A questioning look was aimed her way, Lenneth sighing. "I can't hate you completely. I want to, but the enchantment I am under.....even now, even knowing these truths, it works to make me love you."

"I wouldn't have a chance with you otherwise." Lezard noted, having schooled his expression to be blank of emotion.

Lenneth let out a bitter laugh, and nodded. "In any other situation, I would have killed you where you stood."

"Then Odin's enchantment is more blessing than I had first realized." He hastened to explain. "It gives me a chance with you. A chance I mean to take."

"I will fight it...and you." Lenneth warned.

"I'm sure you will." He agreed. "But I meant it when I said I want to cultivate a friendship with you. I want a chance at a relationship, I want the chance to prove I can be worthy of you..." 

"You turned unworthy the moment you cast your first black spell." Lenneth's tone was cold then. She meant to hurt him, to let her words have a cutting effect on Lezard.

"Maybe so." He agreed. "But we don't always get to choose our first paths in life." She flashed him a disbelieving look, Lezard returning a bitter smile to her. "After you were born, how long before it Odin put a sword in your hand? Hmmm? I was born in one of Hel's holdings, and when I showed a high aptitude for magic, they were quick to seize on my talents. I was groomed to this role, just as you were groomed to be a warrior for Odin." He shrugged then. "Neither one of us can change the past....it is what it is. But the future is ours to determine..."

"If you truly believed that, you'd cut all ties with Queen Hel!" Lenneth snapped, hands on her hips.

He sighed in response. "There are things you don't understand. It's not so easy to escape Hel's grasp..." The oddest smile quirked on his lips. "Any easier than it is to escape Odin's."

She wasn't as affronted as she could have been, Lenneth still questioning Odin's motives in her head. "Be that as it may. I don't like this. Not the situation, and certainly not you!"

"Believe me when I say I am aware of how strong your dislike is..." That weird smile had disappeared. "Come..." He stepped towards her. "It will be time for the evening meal soon enough..."

"Somehow I find myself not hungry." Lenneth told him. He continued to approach her, but she refused to back up even one step. 

"Would you care to rest then? We can save the meal for later."

Lenneth felt as though she had had enough sleep to last her several lifetimes over. But she wanted away, from Lezard and any of the many curious people inside the castle. So she nodded, tone grudging. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Fine." He smiled at her, wisely not attempting to touch her. His touch would have been more than she could tolerate in the moment, Lenneth standing before him stiff with displeasure. "It will give me some time to speak with my people. To school them on how to better conduct themselves around you."

That much Lenneth could appreciate, especially if it meant the scene with Mystina's group wouldn't repeat itself. "Yes, do that." Lenneth couldn't help the commanding tone that had slipped into her voice. Lezard merely chuckled in response, and gestured for her to precede him towards the garden's door. The revealed kitchen would offer tantalizing smells, that almost changed Lenneth's mind about her appetite. But the feast that was being prepared couldn't make Lenneth forget the things she had learned, the Valkyrie's thoughts continuing to be troubled as Lezard led her to the upper levels of the castle.

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To Be Continued....


	9. Nine

It had been with great reluctance that Brahms had forced himself to stop touching Silmeria. It was with that same reluctance, that the vampire had also stepped away from her. But it had needed to be done, Brahms sensing Silmeria could only tolerate so much of his closeness before she erupted into violence once more. Brahms could handle any attacks that she aimed his way. The room however, could not. Already the bedroom was in shambles, furniture knocked over, some broken during their earlier fight.

There was a dent in one wall, plaster splintered apart from the force of Silmeria's impact. He'd see to it's fixing later, perhaps have a large picture hung directly over the injured part of the wall. There were other things that needed to be fixed, though Brahms thought it might be better to wait until Silmeria learned to calm her temper some. Otherwise it would get costly, constantly replacing the furniture they destroyed during their fights.

Her attack had not been wholly unexpected, though there was aspects of the fight that had taken him by surprise. Brahms had expected Silmeria to be angry, about the way he had stolen her, and forced the vampire transformation upon her. He expected and was ready to tolerate the coming days, ready to wait out her anger as she moved into a period of accepting her new destiny.

But what he hadn't expected was the strength and speed she had exhibited during the fight. Silmeria had been fast, moving with the effortless ease of a much older vampire. She hadn't even needed to think about what she was doing, Silmeria reacting on pure instinct during the fight. She hadn't come close to besting Brahms, but he had had to exert more strength than he cared to admit in order to gain control of her without hurting Silmeria in the process.

The fight left him with much to think about. It wasn't that something had gone wrong with Silmeria's transformation. Not exactly. But there was factors to consider, the least of which being she was the first Valkyrie to ever be made into a vampire. Normally his kind enjoyed the taste of Valkyrie blood too much to do anything but drain every drop. Brahms himself had had difficulty in resisting the call of her blood, though he had miraculously managed to stop just short of killing her dead.

It was only that desperate love he had for Silmeria that had allowed Brahms the restraint to stop from consuming all of her blood. If the Valkyrie in his arms had been anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to stop in time. Nor would he have wanted to. Even now he remembered the pleasure that had gone through him as he drank Silmeria down, the sweetly addicting taste of her blood. It drew his eyes to her neck which was partially covered by strands of her hair. His fangs lengthened in his mouth, Brahms wondering just what Silmeria would taste like now. Would she be even half as sweet as a vampire, as she had been as a Valkyrie?

"Don't look at me that way." Silmeria's voice was an angry growl that drew his eyes up to her gaze. The vivid blue was threatening, the former battle maiden glaring at him. She had surely seen the way he had been looking at her neck, and it wasn't pleasure she felt at his interest. Brahms could have blushed in response to her anger, knowing he had done yet another thing to displease her. What's worse, he had been staring at her, with a hunger that had nothing to do with her as a woman and everything to do with the blood that warmed her veins.

Honestly, it was as though he had reverted to a fledgling, unable to control his base instincts to feed. Another vampiress would have laughed, would have felt flattered and teased him for his interest. He wouldn't have felt any great depth of embarrassment, if the neck he had so admired had belonged to a vampiress who returned his yearning. 

He hoped that someday soon Silmeria would want him, both his body and his blood, just as badly as he wanted her. But that day was not yet upon them, even if an hour earlier Silmeria had nearly taken his neck. His gaze heated as he remembered that seductive moment on the bed, Silmeria rising up off the mattress to wrap an arm around him. She had been so close, so damn close to taking the first step towards accepting what she had become. But then something had stopped her, the blood's seductive spell losing it's hold on her, allowing horror to manifest in it's place.

His neck still bore the scratches she had given him, though they had long since stopped bleeding. But the blood remained, drying in place on his skin. Silmeria was disturbed by the blood. She had gone so far as to demand he wash up, as if that would free her from the compulsion to feed. He hadn't humored her demand, Brahms leaving the blood stains on his skin all to further tempt her towards a feeding.

Silmeria was showing remarkable restraint, somehow managing not to stare at his neck. But the way she went to great lengths to avoid looking at the blood let Brahms know just how affected she truly was by it's presence. She was hungry, and it was a hunger that would only grow worse the longer she denied herself. Brahms didn't want her to go through the suffering of starvation, but there was little he could do to force her to feed. He could as her sire, use a compulsion to take over her mind but Brahms knew it would only make Silmeria hate him. She needed to drink the blood of her own free will, or else she would never come to accept her new life with him.

He couldn't compel her, but he could tempt her in different ways. That included stepping in close to her, allowing Silmeria to better scent the blood on his skin. Alarm flared in her eyes, Silmeria taking a step back from him. But not before her eyes had narrowed in on his neck, the tip of her tongue touching her bottom lip in longing reaction to the blood she saw there.

Brahms would outwardly pretend not to notice the reaction she had had. It would keep her anger down, might lull her into relaxing one step closer to feeding. She couldn't know what he was attempting, and yet Silmeria darted to the left of him. She fled to the other side of the bedroom, as if distance could help ease her hunger pangs. Brahms knew no matter how far she tried to run, the hunger would never leave her. Not until she sunk her fangs into a vein of whatever creature she could find. In the end, it would not matter if her prey was mortal, vampire, or Valkyrie. She would feed.

He intended to be there when she did. But he didn't want to just witness her first feeding, Brahms wanted to be a part of it. He'd gladly offer up some of his potently powerful blood, knowing the feeding would only strengthen intimacy between them. To be fed on was a pleasurable thing, provided you didn't struggle against it.

Running his tongue over his fang's tips, he turned not to Silmeria, but to an overturned chair. He'd effortlessly right it, then take a seat on it's cushions before looking at Silmeria. His eyes devoured everything about her, from the blood on her dress, to her wild and uncombed hair. He especially liked looking at her mouth, where the barest hint of fangs were revealed over her lips. Silmeria hadn't yet learned how to hide her fangs when she spoke, and thus with every word, every expression, her fangs were revealed to him.

Silmeria would have had a fit if she had known just what she was showing him. Silmeria was full of loathing, despising every aspect of her vampiric nature. Especially that which gave away what she was now, like the claws on her fingers. Those long, deadly sharp claws were being run over the front of her dress' skirt, the repetitive motion a clear sign of her agitation. That the claws hadn't reverted back so that her hands looked normal, was another sign of how upset Silmeria was. Brahms knew if she would only take a moment to center herself, and find a way to calm down, she could regain control over her hands' appearance.

The fangs however, were something that would take time for her to learn how to control. Even Brahms sometimes had difficulty, when an especially potent emotion took him over. The fact that his fangs were constantly lengthening around Silmeria, was merely proof of just how she affected him. For good and for bad. His fangs lengthened for several reasons, the chief most being hunger and arousal. And around Silmeria he felt both, heat scorching his gaze every time he glanced her way.

He didn't fool himself into thinking Silmeria was experiencing desire towards him. Not this early in their courtship. If her fangs were lengthening beyond her control, it had simply to do with the hunger she continued to deny. But someday Brahms hoped Silmeria would look upon him, and feel just as strong a desire as he did for her. Sometimes Brahms worried about how strong his feelings already were for Silmeria. How much worse would they become as his bond with Silmeria deepened? If there was one thing that was new territory for Brahms, it was the unfamiliar feelings of love he now felt.

That love did not make him careless, though it did make him feel a bit unsteady. In all of the millennia he had existed for, love was the one thing he had never had. It was also something he hadn't realized he was missing in his life, not until he had found Silmeria, and grown to want her. Want her so badly it actually hurt. That hurting was lessened now that Brahms had Silmeria in his possession, though the flames of desire had not cooled one iota. If anything they were fanned by her transformation, Brahms eager to groom her into the perfect Queen to rule by his side.

Silmeria wouldn't fall into her role as Queen of the Vampires overnight. She needed time, both to accept what she was, and to ingratiate herself among their people. Brahms knew it wouldn't be easy. Silmeria was her own worse enemy when it came to accepting her nature, and she had done much to the undead during her tenure as Valkyrie. Brahms would face opposition not only from Silmeria, but from the undead as well. 

It was yet one more reason he was loathe to introduce Silmeria to vampire society. Though his prime reason was motivated by pure selfishness. He didn't want to share Silmeria with anyone. Not while this love was so new to him, Brahms wanting to savor every experience they could have together. He told himself that it was concern for both Silmeria and his people, that he kept her captive in this room. But in truth he just didn't want anyone else to monopolize Silmeria's attention.

Perhaps it was dirty, to try and force a bond between them this way. But Brahms felt certain that without his pushing Silmeria, the girl would never, ever give him a chance to woo her. And all because of what they had been born as, Valkyrie and Vampire, the two immortal enemies. Brahms thought destiny surely had an ironic sense of humor to make the two soul mates. It was humor he did not share, Brahms remembering how close he had come to ending Silmeria's life that first meeting between them.

It might have saved them both a lot of pain and heartbreak if one of them had died that day. But then, Brahms would have never known that such an exhilarating feeling could exist, that his heart could beat for something other than battle. Knowing what he knew now, how could Brahms be anything but indebted to the Valkyrie Hrist, whose arrow had prevented him from killing Silmeria?

He found himself wanting to smile, and did not fight the curving of his lips. Silmeria looked at that expression of mirth with suspicion. It was clear she didn't trust anything that gave Brahms pleasure, no matter what that something could be. But she didn't break her silence to question him. It seemed Silmeria was determined to ignore him as best she could, even as it was blatant that the girl was keeping a close eye on Brahms to ward off any approach of his.

Brahms could play the silence game just as well as Silmeria. Play it and win if he so chose. But he found himself wanting to break the silence, wanting to hear Silmeria's voice even if all she spewed was threats and insults. 

Completely relaxed in his chair, Brahms did a slow once over of Silmeria's body. Those clawed hands of hers clenched into fists. She did not like how blatantly he looked at her. But he did not linger inappropriately on her body, not even on her beasts which still held some dried splatters of blood on them. He ignored the quickening of his pulse, and forced himself to meet her angry gaze. She seemed even more hostile now, glaring at him.

"You must have many questions." Brahms said, giving her an invitation to pick and pry at his vast wealth of knowledge. She had to learn about being a vampire eventually, and what better teacher could she have than the King of the vampires? But Silmeria wasn't seizing on the opening he gave her, continuing to glare at him. He didn't let her angry look affect him. "I'm sure there is much you do not know about the vampires."

"I know plenty." Silmeria interrupted him. He didn't quite laugh, the sound more rude snort than anything.

"Ah. You know how to hunt and kill vampires." Brahms corrected gently. "But what do you know about our culture, our way of life?" She seemed to be hesitating, as though Silmeria was considering all the tales she had heard of the vampires, all the knowledge she had gained first and second hand. "You've only experienced the side Odin would have you see."

"And what side is that?" She demanded.

"That of the enemy." Brahms said plainly. "Silmeria, you've only known vampires through this endless war. Before me, you've never had the chance to speak with one. Never had the chance to look upon one with anything but hatred and contempt, maybe even fear."

"Valkyries do not fear your kind!" She interrupted with a haughty toss of her head. He didn't bother to correct her that she was Valkyrie no more, instead choosing to walk Silmeria into a trap of her own making.

"Then you won't be afraid to get to know my people." That had Silmeria blinking rapidly in response. It didn't hide the startled look in her eyes, Brahms wanting to chuckle in response to it. "I can guarantee we will surprise you. We are not the monsters Odin paints us to be. Not completely."

"You drink blood." She pointed out, and Brahms nodded.

"That we do. But what race in all of Creation doesn't exist by feeding off another?" Her brow furrowed, Silmeria disturbed by that. "It is the cycle of life, one being giving up it's essence so that another can survive."

"But no one feeds off of the vampires." Silmeria protested, as though she had found a surefire fault in his line of reasoning.

"Except other vampires." Brahms retorted. "It is not as...nourishing as feeding off of a mortal, but on occasion...." A shrug of his shoulders then. "We do what we must in order to survive. Just as any race does." 

"It's barbaric!" She said after a pause.

"Is it any more barbaric than slitting a cow's throat, and eating the meat off it's bones?" questioned Brahms. "Or is it the drinking blood aspect you find so disgusting? Unlike the mortals with their cattle, we don't have to drain a donor of all their blood."

"You don't?"

"We don't." He assured her. "There are many factors, many dependent on the age of the vampire in question. You'll find the older the vampire, the less he needs to drink. Whereas a fledgling..." A pointed look was directed her way, a reminder of what she now was. "Will find the thirst upon them often. It is often the fledgling who have the lack of control needed to not kill the donor."

"But I have seen your kind feed! I've seen the vampires kill, drink their victims to death!" Silmeria protested.

"I can guarantee you that was predominantly on the battlefield." Brahms told her. "War brings out the worst in all races, and we vampires make use of what is available to us." He purposefully flashed his fangs then. "Our fangs and our claws are potent weapons, and the blood of our enemies invigorate us. Just as the Valkyrie and einherjar strive to kill every last vampire they come across, we too attempt to do the same to them."

"But a Valkyrie would gain no advantage off of feeding off a vampire!" Silmeria was quick to point out.

"It is perhaps unfair until you realize the Valkyrie are minor deities in their own right. Little Goddesses fighting a war on Odin's behalf, working to exterminate my people."

"We fight to protect the realms from your kind!" Silmeria lifted her chin. "If we did not stand against you, who would?" 

"If it was not for Odin, we would have little reason to war." Brahms countered. A frown flickered across her lips, Silmeria troubled by his statement. Do you not even know who started this war? Who continues to keep it going, century after century?"

"The vampires of course." But Silmeria sounded uncertain then. He thought that good if he was able to cast doubts on what she had thought as absolute truth. "If we do not stop you, your kind will run rampant on the nine realms...."

"Is that what Odin tells you? Is that the lies he feeds his soldiers?" Brahms scowled then. "Silmeria, we merely wish to be left alone. To have that chance at life that the other beings in creation have already been given." She was shaking her head no, a doubting look on her face. "Odin would take that chance from us, would see us all dead. Even worse, he distorts the truth, twists his lies so that my people appear as nothing but villains and monsters to the rest of Creation!" His own hands had formed fists, Brahms pounding one on the arm rest of the chair.

"Why?" Silmeria asked in a shaky tone of voice. "Why would Odin ever need to lie about your kind?"

"Because he hates me." Brahms answered in a cold and dispassionate tone of voice. Silmeria's eyes did a slight widening, registering her surprise at his claim. Brahms gave credit where it was due, watching as Silmeria pulled herself together.

"And you are surprised?" She asked. "After all that the vampires and undead have done....?"

"Anything my vampires have done, has purely been in reaction to Odin's misdeeds!" Brahms snapped. "He has persecuted my race, damned our existence, and denied our souls both the peace of the heavens and of the underworld. We'll know no rest so long as he lives..."

"ENOUGH!" Her shout was sudden, but not entirely unexpected, given the way her rage had   
crossed over her features. "I will not stand here and listen to any more of these...these lies of yours!"

"They are not lies." His voice was low, quiet but no less angry than hers. He didn't mean to be angry at Silmeria, but the rage was building, a millennia of misdeeds performed by her King towards Brahms' kind festering within him. He felt the resentment of his people, the anger they harbored, the indignities they had suffered after hundred of thousands of years of oppression and degradation. 

"They have to be." Silmeria's insistence was telling. There wasn't much, but there was an uncertain tremble to her voice that gave Brahms hope that he had unsettled her. Unsettled her enough to build upon any doubts she might have had, Brahms pushing and prodding her towards the truth. The real reasons behind the vampires and Asgardians' war.

"They have to be." Silmeria insisted, bringing her hands up to hug her arms. But then she saw her claws, and her expression hardened, Silmeria dropping them away from her body. "Odin would not fight a war unless he had reason to. A reason the vampires and undead give him. He is attempting to do good, righting the wrongs of an existence that includes the undead." She trailed off at Brahms sudden snort, the vampire King letting out bitter laughter.

"Odin has never done anything for the good of anyone but himself."

"You're wrong about that...." She protested

"Am I?" Brahms challenged. "Then why does he continue to let the people of Midgard suffer? Why does he not end their pain and misery, cast away all that torments them? Instead he encourages them to war with each other, all to bolster his own armies up in the heavens with the soldiers who died in their battles. Hel! Why does he not allow anyone into the heavens, save for those who die as a warrior? Why does he deny paradise to so many? A paradise that was meant to be experienced by all who proved worthy?!" 

He could see Silmeria had no concrete answer for that, her mouth a disturbed frown. Relentless, Brahms continued. "Odin is a user and abuser, with no regards to those who can't further his own ambitions. He tolerates the mortals because they pay him homage, and give him strong warriors. Otherwise he would not give one whit towards who fed upon them!"

"N....no..." Another shake of her head, and then her expression hardened. "I do not know where this...this twisted belief comes from. Maybe it's born out of an existence that has extended for too long. Maybe you've lived long enough for your mind to grow addled, to distort the truth as you know it. But Odin? He is NONE of what you say! He is a kind and caring ruler, a merciful God that has been besieged for too long by the undead."

"He's never had a kind and caring bone in his body." Brahms retorted. "How old are you Silmeria? I suppose it matters not, you haven't lived anywhere as long as Odin and I have. Certainly you haven't lived long enough to become intimately familiar with the history between us, or the beats of this war. I dare say none of the Valkyrie that are still alive, are old enough to have walked among us during the first years of the war."

"Because they died fighting your kind!" Silmeria was quick to point out.

"Died in battle, or given away to marry and breed new warriors." Brahms told her. "Odin was always quick to utilize his tools, knowing the children of the retired Valkyries would produce the strongest soldiers for him to call upon. He cares not what happens to the Valkyries, so long as they can continue to be of use to him. If not in battle with a sword, than in bed on their backs!"

She moved with that preternatural speed, Silmeria's a blur that appeared right in front of his seat. Her arm was already lashing out, hand slapping him full on the cheek. Such was her strength, that his head turned to the side, pain ringing on his cheek. He tasted blood, Brahms realizing he had bit his tongue when Silmeria had slapped him.

"How dare you." She was hissing in a low tone, eyes brimming with anger. 

"I dare plenty, though in this you know I speak the truth." Brahms caught her hand when Silmeria attempted to slap him a second time. Her lips drew back, fangs flashing as she snarled at him. He kept his expression as neutral as he could manage, given all the anger flashing in his eyes. "How many Valkyrie have you seen forced to a man's bed? Stripped of their divinity, and made into nothing more than a man's possession? How many have despaired at this fate, how many have preferred to die in battle rather than be given away like that?"

Some of Silmeria's anger had cooled, the girl looking shaken by whatever thoughts she was having. It made Brahms want to pull her down onto his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her in comfort. But Brahms knew she would go ballistic if he was to embrace her now. He softened his voice, trying for tender regret as he spoke. "I know it's not easy to hear. You don''t want to face that your King could be a manipulative lair, that he could have used everyone around him, especially the Valkyrie. But Silmeria, there is so much more you do not know...so much more to the story than what Odin would want you to know. Here is your chance to find out the truth...and make a decision on what is really right and wrong."

"As if I could believe anything you would tell me." Silmeria whispered, trying to pull her arm free of his grip.

"You're not ready to take my word for it, but there are other ways." Brahms saw the suspicion flare to life in her expression. He kept on holding her arm, but his other hand rose, claws extending. But he didn't reach out to Silmeria with them, instead running the tips of his claws over his throat. They cut into the grooves Silmeria had made with her claws earlier, and immediately blood began to well out of him.

Just as immediate was Silmeria's hungry look, her gaze fastening on his throat before she could stop herself. With his grip on her arm, Brahms began to draw her closer, guiding her between his spread legs. At first there was no resistance, Silmeria practically floating forward. But she didn't take that final step towards taking his neck, Brahms fingering the blood before bringing his wet fingertips towards her lips.

A gasp from her, the moment ruined as she tried to jerk back. "What are you doing?!" She asked, tone alarmed. "I will not..."

"There is memory in the blood." Brahms told her. But he made no more effort to try and touch her lips with his fingertips. "Through feeding, I can share with you my memories." 

"Share..." She repeated uncertainly. "You can do that....?"

"I can." He nodded. "Think of it Silmeria. With just a few mouthfuls of my blood, you can get the answers you so clearly need. You can learn for yourself the origins of the war, the truth behind Odin and ME." He made his tone seductive, as if that could will her towards drinking. "The truths you long for are yours for the taking. All you need do is drink from me...."

"And lose my soul in the process..." She whispered. But her eyes were once again riveted on his bleeding throat.

"Vampires are not soulless." Brahms corrected her gently. "We've merely been dealt a harsh hand by a God who hates what he cannot control." He was tugging her forward again, ready to take advantage of her distraction. She moved without protest, Silmeria actually licking her lips as she stared at the blood. Was she close to giving in? Would her desire for the truth bring her to take his neck? Brahms actually trembled in anticipation, letting his head fall back to offer up his throat to Silmeria. She seemed to shiver and shake in response to the sight of it, a helpless moan escaping her.

Triumph rocketed through him, Brahms certain he heard her surrender in that moan. He didn't dare speak though, not wanting to ruin the moment, and knowing almost anything would be enough to frighten her away from the feeding he offered. But still, Brahms closed his eyes, his trembles increasing as he felt Silmeria's breath on his skin. All too soon he would feel her fangs pierce his flesh, and already he was half hard with sexual arousal as he imagined how sweet feeding her would feel. He had to fight to keep from moaning her name, feeling as though this   
moment was suspended in eternity.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	10. Ten

There was much to reflect on from the heated conversation she had just been having with Brahms. It hadn't yet escalated into full out argument, but Silmeria was angry all the same. She had slapped him for a most impertinent comment. A comment that had hurt her for the ring of truth it held to it. And all because Silmeria understood that Odin had only two paths laid out for his Valkyries. To fight for him, and to breed new warriors for him. It angered and upset her, especially the knowing look Brahms had given her as he had stated so cruelly the Valkyries' purpose.

It wasn't the only thing that was upsetting her. Brahms had been actively trying to get her to doubt Lord Odin. He was making claims, wild ones that spoke of the vampires not being at fault for the war. His words had even hinted at some personal vendetta the God had against Brahms, as if Odin was not motivated by a sense of justice and need to do right with this war. 

Silmeria hated hearing these things about Odin. She hated that Brahms tried to make her doubt her King. She even hated that there was a small part of her that was intrigued by some of what Brahms had said. And all because she was full of curious longing that made Silmeria desire to know just exactly how the war had started. She wondered how the vampires had grown to be so powerful that they could stand against a God. Why Odin hadn't destroyed them before they could become a problem.

Brahms hadn't made her doubt Odin, not completely. But he did tempt her into wanting to hear more. To learn more, even if what she was told was some embellished lie. And all because Silmeria knew that to lie, some kernel of truth had to be planted inside the deception. She'd pick at the lie, until Silmeria found the real truth. And with that truth, she would equip herself with it's power, to better defend against Brahms and his temptations.

Unfortunately, the greatest temptation Brahms could offer Silmeria was before her now. The Vampire Lord had scratched open his throat with his claws so that his blood flowed out in a steady trickle. The red streams flowed down his chest in a seductive tease, slowly caressing over his muscles and going lower down his abdomen. Her mouth seemed to water as she stared at the blood, her eyes constantly returning to the source of it's flow. Silmeria had the strangest of impulses, the girl wanting to bend over Brahms, and lick up all that blood.

She could see herself, dropping to her knees to follow with her tongue the trail of blood. Licking it off each line of his body, before fastening her lips to the clawed open marks on his throat. Marks she would work to open even further, Silmeria sealing her mouth over them to drink up every drop of his blood. She didn't know how his blood would taste, but if smell was anything to go on, it would be absolutely delicious.

A moan escaped her, and without thinking, Silmeria stepped forward. Her fingers were curling, flexing rhythmically with the need to sink her claws into something. To clutch and hold onto Brahms' body as she fed from him. This was pure need that was driving her forward, Silmeria aware her hunger had been mounting the entire time she had talked to Brahms. Had talked and scented the dried blood on his skin.

The urge to feed had become a million times worse once a fresh source of blood was presented to her. Silmeria could barely remember what Brahms had been saying, only recalling some oddity about there being memory in the blood. She didn't know about that, but Silmeria knew there was danger in drinking. Danger in drinking from anyone, regardless of their race.

Even as she leaned in, her breath ghosting along his skin, Silmeria was trying to remember just what that danger was. She trembled from the force needed to restrain herself, Silmeria's own eyes closing. That dark seductive voice inside her? The one that was oh so hungry? It whispered now that just a taste would be all right, that there would be no harm it taking enough to remove the edge off her hunger.

Her flexing fingers caught on his vest, and Silmeria used her new found hold to pull herself closer to him. Her body was pressed against his now, Brahms' legs spread so that nothing prevented Silmeria from plastering herself against him. She didn't let go of his vest, fingers tightening their hold. She could smell the blood, and it was an enticing, rich aroma. It urged her closer, Silmeria's breath coming faster as she took in deep inhales of the blood's scent. The fangs in her mouth reacted to that tantalizing smell, lengthening till it became impossible to close her mouth around them.

She was quickly becoming all predator, the sounds from her throat no longer helpless whimpers but eager, hungry growls. Heightening her predatory instinct was the fact that Brahms was trembling against her. She wasn't fooled into thinking he feared her, but the predator didn't care. It just registered that there was prey before her, willing and not putting up any signs of a struggle.

Again she wanted to do that lavish lick across the bleeding claw marks, get her tongue thoroughly drenched with his blood. Something deep inside her tightened in arousal, all in reaction to the image in her head. But as strong as that arousal was, it frightened her. Silmeria was unused to sexual desire, in wanting something so badly it could make her body react so strongly. Even as her nipples grew taut, pushing against the fabric of her dress' bodice, Silmeria was fighting back through the arousal and hunger. And what Silmeria found when she opened her eyes was almost enough to tear a shriek from her throat.

Brahms had his head tilted back so that his throat was offered up to her. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was a near smirk. He radiated anticipation, and a keen sense of satisfaction in what Silmeria was about to do. Her hands gripped his vest harder, but she no longer wanted to cling to him. The blood's scent was both seducing and repulsing her, Silmeria trying not to choke on the sudden wave of nausea that coursed through her.

Brahms sensed the change in her almost immediately, his eyes snapping open. She shook all the harder, fists frozen in place on his vest. "Silmeria..." He began in a voice that seemed to rasp on her nerves.

"Don't!" She interrupted him with a curt word, her head shaking no. "Don't say it...don't say anything..." She might lose it if he urged her to drink, might tear herself screaming from him then. His weighty gaze was on her, his crimson eyes holding something that might have been pity in them. Silmeria couldn't bear his mercy, anymore than she could stand the cruelty of what he had done to her. 

Of course he didn't listen to her pleas, expelling a deep breath before speaking. "Silmeria, it will get easier once you have fed. Once you continue to feed."

She jerked back with a convulsive movement, horrified when her claws snagged hold of his vest's fabric. She couldn't think clear enough to get them untangled, shaking hands jerking again and again in an attempt to get away from him. And all because she realized Brahms didn't enter into this feeding with the expectation that it would be a one time thing. He fully expected it to be the first of what would be an eternity of feedings, Silmeria's hunger never ending, not unless someone ended her miserable existence for her. 

Brahms thought her so weak, so easy to seduce into damning herself. She held back her despairing moan, knowing that in the moments that had just passed, she had put up little to no fight, the blood seducing her. Silmeria had never realized she was so weak willed before becoming a vampire, and yet now she was faced with a temptation she found hard to resist.

"I...I will NEVER feed!" She announced, struggling with her claws. Brahms put an arm around her waist, attempting to keep her plastered against him as his other hand reached for her trapped one. The arm around her waist was like steel, immovable and unbendable to her will. But the hand that touched hers, the fingers that worked her claws free of the fabric, was gentle.

"Silmeria, love...it is inevitable." Brahms' tone was calm, causal. As though what he said hadn't the power to destroy her world. She refused to react to the endearment, mustering her anger instead to argue against the latter.

"Never!" Silmeria hissed at him. But she let him work her claws free, noting the way he lingered over each finger, actually tracing the nail of each. "I will die first! Do you hear me?! I will die before I ever drink someone's life!"

His own gaze hardened, his hand gripping her wrist now. "That will never happen. You may drive yourself mad in the process of starving yourself, but there will come a time when you will feed. The predator in you won't allow you to let yourself starve."

"You mean the monster in me!" She shot back in retort. "Only a monster could have these urges...be driven by the perverse inclinations brought on by the sight and smell of blood!" Silmeria didn't care if she hurt herself, she was that desperate to get away from Brahms. But she knew even if she fled to the other side of the room, the blood would torment her. As would the memories of the moments leading up to her nearly feeding off Brahms' throat.

"There is nothing perverse in doing what is needed to keep on living." Brahms seemed to barely be exerting himself in holding her prisoner.

"Not perverse?" She hadn't failed to notice his arousal, his erection straining the material over his crotch. She didn't dare touch it, not even to brush against it with her body, but she did call attention to it. "You find this natural? Normal, to be so aroused when a monster is about to take your neck?!" He had the grace to look embarrassed, but Brahms did not apologize for the state she had driven him to.

"Feeding and being fed upon can be a pleasurable thing." Brahms said in way of defense. "As you are well aware of." A pointed look from him, Silmeria flushing in response. Did his gaze linger on her breasts, her stiff nipples all too damning evidence of her own interest stirred by hunger and the arousing images that had flashed through her mind? 

"It's wrong..." Silmeria whispered. "It is wrong to feel pleasure when harming another...or when being harmed..."

"A vampire's bite need not lead to death. I already told you that." Brahms tone was dismissive. "Where is the wrong in giving some pleasure back for the nourishment we receive...?"

"You're trying to justify it!" Silmeria voice wasn't as forceful as she would have liked. "When the truth is the pleasure is just a tool, one used to lull your victims into compliance! Its far easier to feed if they don't fight you, isn't it?!" Before he could come up with some feeble protest, Silmeria was continuing. "And what of the other undead? The monsters that feed on something far worse than blood?! Do they lull they're victims with pleasure to hide the pain of their flesh being consumed?"

"No." He seemed to deflate then, actually letting go of her. Silmeria immediately backed up, not trusting Brahms or herself in so close quarters. "Those monsters can only offer their chosen prey pain..." She didn't feel smug by his admittance, Silmeria just felt frustrated. Sad even. "There's no justifying what they do." Brahms continued. "They are a despised existence, truly the monsters Odin would have you believe we vampires are."

"And yet you ally with those monsters." Silmeria was quick to point out. "You rule over all the undead, not just the vampires."

"And if not me, then who?" Brahms demanded. "Would you prefer them to be aimless? To roam the nine realms without purpose, killing any and all they come across?"

"Oh, so it's purpose you give them." She couldn't help it. Her tone was mocking then. 

"I keep them busy." Brahms told her. "Engage in Asgard, fighting Odin's war." He snorted then. "It's better than what Odin tried to do with them."

"Odin?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice, her eyes widening in question. 

"Didn't you know? Oh that's right...Odin sees fit to tell his soldiers only the stories that paint him in an accurate light." Brahms tone and expression was bitter then, the vampire leaning back in his seat.

"As if you're no different!" Silmeria scoffed. "I see what you're trying to do."

"Oh?" Not even amusement could chase away Brahms' bitterness completely. "And that is what, little fledgling?"

She bristled at that, but chose to ignore what he called her. "You're trying to make me doubt my Lord. To stir uncertainties inside me with your lies and deceptions."

"I have been truthful with you Silmeria." Brahms replied. "It may not be a truth you want to hear, but it doesn't change the facts. Odin has lied to you. Has used the Valkyries and the einherjar for countless millennia, furthering his own private vendettas." His hand raised to his throat, coming away wet with the blood that was slow to stop. "You can stop all the doubts and uncertainties if you would just feed from me."

"And I'm supposed to believe that there really is memory in the blood?" She scoffed then, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'll have to try harder to trick me. I am not that stupid." She was purposefully trying not to stare at the blood, ignoring the ravenous growl that escaped her.

"I'd never think you stupid Silmeria." Brahms assured her. "But I can't help but wonder where this sudden cowardice has come from."

She inhaled sharply. "Cowardice? You accuse me of being a coward?!"

"You're turning your back on the truth, all but running from it in refusing to drink." Brahms explained, and Silmeria snorted.

"I am preserving my soul." Her eyes surely blazed with the heat of her emotions. "I am surviving as best I can. Living long enough for my sisters to come and free me from this soulless existence you would cast me into!"

His face grimaced, Brahms suddenly lurching up out of his seat. "And what happens when they come? Hmm? You think I would allow them, allow any one to take you from me?"

"You won't have a choice..." Silmeria began, but Brahms cut her off.

"I bested your sister Lenneth in combat. What makes you think I can't do it again!?" Her mouth open and closed, but he was continuing ruthlessly, pacing towards her. "Silmeria, I care for you...but that care can only get your sisters so far. If they come, if they dare try to kill you..." His eyes were turbulent, a violent promise in his gaze. She shivered and paled to see it, but did not back any further from him. "If they try to kill you..." He repeated with a shudder. "Not even your pleas for mercy will save them."

"And you don't think that is barbaric? Proof of what a savage monster you are?!" It was all she could say, tone demanding as she glared at him. But she was shaken, knowing Brahms spoke the truth when it came to neutralizing the threat her sisters posed. 

"Is it any more barbaric than loving sisters coming to kill their own, all in some misguided attempt to save her soul?" Brahms countered. "Both sides are working to do what is best for you. Both sides love you." He ignored her snort at that. "But where I want to see you flourish and live, your sisters would see you dead and buried. I won't allow anyone to harm you. If that is wrong, than so be it. I'd gladly be damned twice over to protect you." 

Once she might have been flattered to have so powerful a man pledging his protection to her even as Silmeria acknowledge she wouldn't have needed it. She especially couldn't feel flattered when in the same breath Brahms used to vow he'd protect her, he also threatened her sisters' lives. 

"I don't want, or need your protection." Silmeria growled out loud.

"You have it all the same." His reply was instant, Silmeria frowning at him in frustration. "It's a new world I've given you Silmeria. Full of new potential and dangers."

"The only one I'm in danger from is you!"

He stopped directly in front of her, his body so much bigger and taller than hers. It made her feel small, like a kitten being eyed by a wolf. But unlike the kitten, she was able to fight, to do more than cry pitifully. 

"You're wrong about that." Brahms loomed over her, Silmeria glaring defiant up at him. "It's as I said. You know little about vampires other than how to hunt them. But now others will be hunting you. You may think you want to lie down for their swords, but you'd be surprised how fervent the desire to live is in the moment when death is upon us." He reached out with his fingers to touch her hair, Silmeria fighting not to flinch in response. "It's not just Odin's warriors you'll have to worry about. Even among our own kind...."

"Your kind not mine!" Silmeria snapped in interruption. An interruption he ignored.

"Even among our own kind, there will be some that will want to use you. To hurt you if they can."

"Why? Because I'm a Valkyrie?" She asked, and he paused, considering his answer a moment.

"Yes, and no." Brahms said at last. "It's true you've made many enemies among the undead. You've built a career out of slaying those I rule. It will be hard for them to forget past transgressions and move on. Just as I'm sure you will find it difficult to forgive and forget the things the vampires did to you and yours." Reluctantly, Silmeria found herself nodding in agreement to this. "There will be some you will never be able to win over. And some who would hurt you simply to get at me."

To that she gave him a doubting look. "Because I am to believe you care so deeply about me, it would pain you to lose me?" Her tone was sarcastic, but Brahms did not betray any annoyance he might have felt in response to it.

"You've never been loved by a vampire." Is what he said instead. Silmeria couldn't help but shiver at the way his voice sounded, making her feel as though a silk feather was being caressed over her sensitized flesh. That voice, combined with the yearning look in his eyes pulled a reaction in her, Silmeria finding her mouth had dried, breath stopping as she stared at him. 

"When we love, when we find the other half of our soul..." His hand let go of her hair, and touched her cheek instead. She didn't lean in to that touch, but Silmeria couldn't look away from him. She found herself hanging on every word, knees actually knocking together from the force of her trembles. "We do so with our whole hearts, our entire fiber of being. To love is to be complete, for the first time in all of our existence."

She had never heard of this, that the vampires could be so loving. Silmeria knew they could lust, that they could want and desire a person or their things. It was that desire that often drove them to make new vampires from among the races, though in recent centuries the push had been predominantly to make soldiers to help bolster the vampire's forces for the war. But she wasn't sure she completely bought into what Brahms was telling her, even though he had managed an earnest look.

He was still touching her cheek, his skin holding a slight chill she associated with vampires. Brahms maintained eye contact with her, apparently waiting for Silmeria to say something in response to his claims. Once again, she thought if the situation had been different, if Brahms hadn't been a vampire but just some powerful man, Silmeria would have been flattered by his interest.

But she reminded herself he wasn't just a man, but a vampire. The King of the Undead. The very monster she was sworn to destroy, the fiend who had chased her relentlessly for far longer than she would care to admit. His vampires were responsible for the injuries that had ended her career as Valkyrie. She had known true pain, debilitating and fierce because of him. She had even known fear, the feeling thrilling in her blood in response to his pursuit.

Could vampires love? Silmeria didn't think so. She was adamant that what Brahms felt for her had to be pure lust, twisted even further by the very nature of their relationship. It was unnatural, unheard of for a vampire or Valkyrie to care for the other. And yet Brahms seemed to laugh in the face of convention, chasing after Silmeria, and turning her into an abomination. He may have taken away her physical pain, but Silmeria was very much tortured emotionally. She felt it wasn't a fair exchange, thinking Brahms had brought more grief to her and her sisters in forcing the vampire's life onto Silmeria.

Her thoughts had taken too long. Brahms was already bending towards her lips, intent on claiming a kiss from her. He must have misread her silence as acceptance, or maybe he was just that forward, wanting to seal his proclamation with a kiss. Regardless of the reasons behind the kiss, Silmeria knew she couldn't allow his lips to touch hers. It would only bring trouble, would only further confuse the vampire King's feelings towards her.

She pushed out with her hands, touching his blood slicked chest with them. Silmeria gave a none to delicate shove, her intent clear in that she didn't want him to come any closer. Disappointment laced with hurt flashed in his eyes, but Brahms let go of her. The instant he stepped away, she found she could breathe, even as she hurriedly wiped her hands on her dress. Silmeria told herself it was to get them clean of the blood, but in truth she was trying to wipe away any tempting traces before she did something as uncouth as start licking the blood off her hands. Even with the blood smeared onto her dress, Silmeria had to battle the compulsion to try and wring out a few drops from the fabric into her mouth.

It scared and disgusted her that her thirst for blood could make her want to do such things. This time when she shook, it was with revulsion, Silmeria purposefully not looking at Brahms. She couldn't bear the sight of his blood stained skin a moment longer. It was too great a temptation, too mouth watering a sight. She might really give in to the urge to push him down, to crawl on top of him and start licking him clean with her tongue. Perhaps even more horrifying was the knowledge that Brahms would be all to willing to let her do that to him.

"I...I don't belive in this love you speak of." She was finally able to speak without her voice betraying how shaken she was. "Nor do I believe vampires can feel anything more than lust for another."

"Becoming a vampire doesn't change what you can feel." Brahms was quick to argue with her. "Tell me Silmeria. Have you lost any love for your sisters? Do you care for them even one bit less than you did as a Valkyrie?"

"Of course not!" Came Silmeria's immediate answer. She actually felt insulted to hear him question her love for her sisters, even as she reluctantly acknowledged what he said was true. The love remained, not twisted, not distorted by her vampiric nature. But she wouldn't give him a victory so completely, Silmeria glaring at a spot over his shoulder. "But I have not yet lost my soul. Who is to say what will happen if I feed?"

"I've already told you, vampires are not soulless. Perhaps it is our greatest weakness that we feel too much, especially when our opponents are as unfeeling as the Gods are."

"The Gods unfeeling?" She couldn't hide how startled that thought made her.

"They're a self serving lot, only caring about themselves and maybe, just maybe their own kind." Brahms sounded angry then. "It's easy to perpetuate crimes against another when you just don't give a damn."

"More lies..." Silmeria managed to sputter out.

"More truths you are afraid to face." Brahms sighed. "I know this will be difficult for you to accept, but the time will come when you will have to see for yourself. Odin is not a shining beacon of goodness, no champion of the realms. The war is not so black and white as Odin would have you think, many gray areas exist."

"No..no, I won't believe." Silmeria said, shaking her head. "Not even if a thousand years pass...."

"Then it is fortunate we have all of eternity together." A slight quirking of his lips, Silmeria's hands clenching into fists in response of it. "But I have faith it won't take nearly that long." His own hand raised towards his hair, ruffling the spiky strands with it's caress. The gesture made him seem tired, as though talking with her had worn Brahms out. Silmeria didn't express concern then, not wanting him to misinterpret it as feelings she didn't have. As feelings she would NEVER have, Silmeria thought resolutely, casting one last glare Brahms' way. No matter how much his blood called to her, how much it tempted and aroused her, she would never reciprocate love or lust towards him. It was an easy vow to make, but even Silmeria felt a smidgen of doubt on whether she'd be able to uphold it through her actions.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be Continued....


	11. Eleven

Lenneth felt as though there would never be a time when she could truly be at peace. Never a time when her thoughts wouldn't be troubled, her mind endlessly examining the information that was revealed to her in bits and pieces. Those pieces weren't enough to give her a full picture of just what was going on, but what they did reveal was disturbing.

The revelations left her restless, Lenneth pacing back and forth about the room. She wasn't used to this inaction, this feeling of helplessness. Lenneth was used to reacting, to assessing a situation, and making a decision to right the problems of it. Lenneth very much wanted to do that now, and yet did not know how she could ever hope to fix the problems presented to her. The problems of Odin considering an alliance with the underworld.

It was horrific. It was unthinkable. And yet it had to be true, for Lenneth presence here in Flenceburg was proof of what Odin was considering. What he may have already decided to do. Lenneth didn't believe Odin would lightly enter into an alliance with Hel, anymore than he would hand over a Valkyrie to one of her minions. Not without Odin weighing the risks and benefits of such an act. It had to be more lucrative than damning, the things Hel offered him. Lenneth wondered and worried just how badly the war with Brahms had become. Wondered how she hadn't realized how desperate Odin must be getting to finally win a battle that had waged for what seemed like millennia.

She knew they all wanted victory over the vampires. That they all wanted the many races of the undead to be destroyed, thoroughly exterminated so that none of the monsters could ever threaten the realms again. But there was few if any among the Valkyrie and einherjar that would want Asgard to align itself with the underworld. With a Queen who was so cruel and callous, she enjoyed corrupting mortals to the path of darkness.

Lenneth was not a young Valkyrie. She had existed for centuries. Had even once fought in a war against Nifleheim's forces. The underworld wasn't as a great a threat as the vampires continued to be, but Nifleheim had caused enough trouble over the years. It was through Hel, that Brahms had gained control of the undead, of the many monsters that existed apart from the vampires. Lenneth could never understand why Hel would give up such a powerful tool, but the fact remained that Brahms had made use of it.

How many misguided mortals had Hel lured to the underworld? How many souls corrupted, whole destinies rewritten at the whim of the Queen? Hel was a greedy, grasping Goddess. She was not content with her underworld kingdom, wanting more than was her right to have. Lenneth had always privately thought that once the threat of Brahms was exterminated, Asgard should set out on a path to ending Hel's reign. 

Now it seemed that would never happen, Asagrd and the underworld poised on signing a truce. On forging an alliance, one that came too late to do her sister Silmeria any good. Or Lenneth herself, the former Valkyrie feeling as though she was the first to be sacrificed for Odin's ambitions. Other Valkyrie would surely follow. Lenneth was certain they would feel as repulsed as she did towards the alliance. Towards the thought of making children that would one day follow Hel's teachings.

Regardless of what Odin decreed, it would be difficult for the Valkyries to forget their struggles against Hel and her forces. Even harder to forgive them, Nifleheim's crimes many. The Valkyrie had lost einherjar to the queen, and Midgard itself had been divided, whole kingdoms given unto Hel's possession. Flenceburg was just one of those lands, the people here devotees whose ancestors had faced off against Lenneth and her einherjar.

It made her uneasy to be in the heart of what she viewed as enemy territory. And no amount of signed treaties would ever get Lenneth to relax and think of Hel's holdings as otherwise. Nor could she be entirely at ease around these people, around the man that was meant to be her husband. Lezard had admitted to being part of Hel's inner circle. To being so closely associated with the Queen, that she confided in him. Once she would have taken great pleasure in using Lezard, in leading him on in order to learn of Hel's plans and relay them to Odin. But that was not the mission that had been given to her, Odin's only command that Lenneth give herself over to Lezard as his wife.

She rebelled against that, against it all. She wanted to do something to change her fate, to curry favor with Odin once more. Was it possibly for a Valkryie to regain her Godhood once she had been rendered mortal? Lenneth did not know. Such a thing had never before been attempted, the Valkyries dying on the battlefield, or living out the rest of their lives as mortal. But if she could, Lenneth would gladly play spy and ferret out some dastardly plot of Hel's. All to give that information to Odin, stop the alliance, and any back stabbing betrayals Hel might have planned.

Lenneth had a good idea where to begin with her spying. Access to a high ranking member of Hel's council was readily available to her. Lenneth's lips did not quite quirk in a grim smile, the woman thinking of the man who was to be her husband. But it was difficult to think of Lezard, and not remain unaffected by Odin's love potion. The enchantment was always working, always looking for an opening to slip into. It wanted to lock onto her heart, onto her thoughts and feelings and make Lenneth give herself wholly unto Lezard.

It was difficult, and Lezard's attempts at kindness made it more so. He wasn't acting mean or depraved, actually friendly to her. He wasn't giving her a reason to hate him beyond the simple fact of what he was. Once that would have been enough to get her to kill him, Lenneth despising those who toyed with the dead and defiled souls. But Odin's enchantment wouldn't allow her to actively hate him. It left her in a conflicted state, Lenneth both longing for Lezard and wanting to despise him. It might be enough to drive her insane, Lenneth at constant war with opposite emotions where Lezard was concerned.

It left her tired, a mental weariness she could not afford to give in to. Any weakness would be played open, the love spell taking full advantage to force her will to give in to it. To love Lezard. Lenneth was sure he was unworthy of her love. And all because he was in Hel's employ, a damned soul that would one day reside in the underworld.

Of course Lenneth didn't think many men were worthy of her love. Of any Valkyries' love. But the men who allied themselves with Hel were doubly unworthy. But Odin's love spell didn't care about a person's worth, it just cared about making the match. Lenneth was more than hesitant to engage Lezard in any manner, a sliver of fear in her at the thought that to use him for her purposes was to open herself towards becoming more susceptible to loving him.

She'd just have to be strong, Lenneth decided. She wished that strength could come to her as easily as the decision. But something in her melted every time Lezard smiled at her. It was a nice feeling, but one she did not want. Anymore than she wanted to become familiar with him, with Lezard's mannerisms and way of behaving. But already some of him had imprinted on her. Lenneth could easily conjure to her mind the way he looked, the way his bangs fell in messy disarray across his forehead. The way his eyes twinkled constantly with his amusement, and how often he had smiled at her even when she was surely disappointing him.

The love enchantment surged stronger in her, Lenneth shaking her head no to dispel it and Lezard's image. The enchantment urged her to go to him, to seek him out. Lenneth would do exactly the opposite, refusing to step out of this room. Some part of her thought it pure cowardice on her part, Lenneth seeking to avoid that which would magnify the effects of the enchantment. But it was as she said, Lenneth was tired. She needed the time to recuperate, to prepare herself for the battle of not giving in to love.

Sometimes thinking of Silmeria situation helped ground Lenneth in reality. But there was a different kind of danger to spending time on thoughts of Silmeria. And all because the thoughts brought despair rushing through her, Lenneth thinking she might cry for the first time in years. As she struggled with the love enchantment, Lenneth also had to deal with her grief over failing her sister. That left her just as vulnerable to mental exhaustion, Lenneth sighing. But she couldn't stop from wondering what was going on with Silmeria, hoping the girl hadn't yet fed. 

Lenneth shivered, remembering the dreams she had suffered during her enchanted sleep. Were the dreams close to becoming a reality? And what of Hrist? Did she even now journey to put an end to their sister, to save Silmeria before she damned her soul for good? Lenneth had no way of knowing, cut off from Asgard, and both of her sisters. That was perhaps the worse torture of all, to not know what was going on, what was happening to her family.

Would she ever know? Lenneth knew she could never be at peace so long as she didn't know what was Silmeria's ultimate fate. Or for that matter, Hrist's. Lenneth was well aware of the danger, knowing Brahms might easily overpower her older sister. Shame filled Lenneth as she recalled how easily Brahms had beaten her. It was that defeat that had led to her being in Flenceburg, left to endlessly wonder and worry.

The enchantment could take away all her problems, do away with her worry. Lenneth understood that. She knew if she gave in, the love would fill her so completely she wouldn't have room in her head for thoughts of anyone but Lezard and the family she would make with him. But she refused to take such an easy way out, even if she was driven to collapse from the constant fighting she was doing in her mind.

Her mind was always moving from one source of anguish to the next. It had been hours since Lezard had excused himself, leaving Lenneth alone in the chamber she had first awakened in. And all throughout the hours, she had constantly agonized over Odin's plots, the love enchantment, and her sisters' fates. Not even the temptation to explore the room had distracted her for long.

Of course she had taken stock of her surroundings. It was a Valkyrie's nature to assess the area, and be aware of any and all things she could use to her advantage. But the room was a typical bedroom, depressingly devoid of any sharp implements and weapons. What it did have was a few dresses in her size, equally frilly and frivolous gowns that were ill suited to the battlefield. 

A stool showed more promise, Lenneth thinking she could break the legs of and use them as a club if need be. But Lenneth had reminded herself she would play snoop and saboteur, ferreting out secrets rather than charging blindly about. But a sword under her pillow would help Lenneth to relax just a smidgen more.

At least the chirping of the songbird had a somewhat soothing effect on her. The pretty blue bird was vocal, constantly singing as it fluttered it's wings and paced it's cage. Lenneth thought the bird as restless as she, the little creature constantly trying to squeeze through the bars of it's cage. Lenneth had more room to roam than the songbird, but the castle was just as true a prison for her as the cage was for the bird.

"At least one of us should be free." Lenneth decided, voice soft as she walked towards the songbird's cage. She would take it off it's hook, and carry the delicate cage over to the window. The window was unbarred, curtains stirring in the soft breeze of the coming evening. The sun had yet to set, but already the moon could be seen. The sky was brilliant in it's sunset colors, the day had been nearly cloudless. It was so different from the day her entourage had been ambushed by Brahms people.

Below her window, she could see the inner courtyard of the castle. There wasn't many people walking it, most had already gone inside for the evening's meal. She was glad they were gone, not wanting to be stared at. Lights were beginning to flicker on, the white globes some sort of magical construct that sensed the coming darkness and reacted.

The lights would keep many predators away, but Lenneth sensed there was additional protection beyond the globes. She made a note to ask Lezard about it later, the woman unlatching the bird cage. The little songbird immediately tried to dart out, Lenneth cupping her hands protectively around it. Her head bowed, she was sending a prayer with the bird though to who she addressed that prayer to, she no longer knew. 

As she whispered words over the bird cupped in her hands, she heard the door to the bedroom open. She didn't raise her head, not immediately. She could feel the trembles of the songbird, the tiny creature unsure of what was to happen to it now. To the right of her, she heard something being set down on the room's table. But she didn't look to see what, instead turning, ready to release the bird. 

"I wouldn't." A hand close over hers, preventing the bird from escaping. She didn't mean to, but Lenneth reacted startled at that sudden and unexpected touch. But more than that shock, she liked the warmth of the hand on hers. Her face turned to look at the one who touched her, but Lenneth had already known it was Lezard.

"Wouldn't?" She echoed, letting her confusion show. "Why shouldn't I set it free?" 

"All it's known has been this cage." He began, but Lenneth quickly interrupted him.

"Isn't that all the more reason to let it go? Birds were never meant to be caged, but to soar free in the sky. It's WRONG to imprison them, to take that chance from them...."

"I can agree it's wrong." Lezard said with a nod. But he didn't uncover her hand. "But sometimes these things cannot be helped. This bird has led a sheltered life, has never known anything beyond this cage. It was born in captivity, has come to depend on the kindness of humans for it's needs. It would not be able to exist in the wild, would soon fall prey to starvation or predators."

"I hadn't realized..." She allowed Lezard to gently take the bird from her, the mage returning it to it's cage. The little songbird would let out a questioning chirp, head tilted in confusion as it tried to understand what had just happened.

"It's a big world out there." Lezard continued, leaving the closed cage on the sill of the   
window. "It can be exciting but dangerous, overwhelming to those who do not know how to cope outside these walls."

"We're not just talking about the bird any more, are we?" Lenneth asked him, not quite frowning. She missed his hand on hers, and despised herself for that longing. "I can take care of myself..."

"I don't doubt that you can. But living on Midgard is a lot different from living on the battlefield." Lezard told her. "You're no longer a Goddess. You are mortal now, limited in some ways. You are susceptible to things you never had to worry about, and you know little of the expectations people would put on you. As a former goddess, and now as a woman."

"Expectations?" She questioned with an arch of her eyebrow. "You mean such as our marriage cementing the alliance between Asgard and Nifleheim?" She shook her head then. "I know what is expected of me. What my King would have me do. I will not disappoint on that front."

"You are as honorable as they say Valkyries should be." Lezard noted. But Lenneth didn't feel very honorable in the moment, plotting to use him to get back in Odin's good graces. It must have shown on her face, for Lezard was suddenly apologizing. "Ah forgive me, I've made you uncomfortable."

She didn't acknowledge that observation with words, instead looking out the window again. "Those orbs...they are more than just magic to light up the night, yes?"

"Why yes. But I am surprised you can sense that." Lezard told her, and she did a sidelong glance at him.

"I have dabbled with magic in the past."

"Have you now?" He asked, sounding interested.

"It's nothing much. Just a few healing spells." A wry twist of her lips. "Healing magic always comes in handy on that battlefield."

"That it does." He agreed.

"What other spells is enchanted into the orbs?" Lenneth asked again.

"It's a warding spell. One designed to keep out the undead." explained Lezard. 

Lenneth went wide eyed at that. "I had not realized that you mortals were capable of such a spell."

"We're not." Lezard said, then quickly explained. "It is a boon granted to us by Queen Hel." 

"Hel?!" Lenneth tried not to growl out her name. The effort made her gasp instead, though she was sure a sneer was in place on her face. Lezard noted her reaction, his own flustered. 

"She protects those who serve her loyally." Now he looked away from her, as though uneasy with the topic. "The entire city of Flenceburg is warded. We are safe so long as we remain inside it's borders. It's those who are foolish enough to venture out that run the risk of being prey."

"So you lead as sheltered a life as that bird?"

"Hardly." Lezard snorted. "Unlike that bird, many of us can and will protect ourselves."

"With magic...."

He nodded. "We are not the typical warriors you are used to in Asgard. We use mystical energy rather than swords as our weapons."

"But magic can be draining on one's energies." Lenneth pointed out. "It is better to team up a mage with a warrior. The one protecting the other."

"I suspect if we had made use of more swordsmen during our war with Asgard, the underworld wouldn't have been as easy to defeat."

"I suspect you are right." Lenneth agreed, wishing she could force more cold into her tone of voice.

"You were alive back then, were you not?" Curiosity filled his expression, Lenneth giving a grudging nod. "What would you say was the main reason for Hel's defeat? Did her armies really rely too much on magic to put up a good fight against Odin's warriors?"

Lenneth could remember there was several things that were the deciding factors in the war. Hel's forces had been superior where their spell casters were concerned, but ultimately the Valkyrie and the einherjar had been stronger when it came to pure physical force. With their own mages casting reflection spells, the warriors were able to cut down many a mage before the men and women could finish focusing their power. She acknowledged that if there had been more warriors on the underworld's side, the soldiers would have been able to defend and fight against the Valkyries.

But she didn't want to tell Lezard this, not trusting that he would report back her assessments to Hel. For helping the Queen of the underworld improve her army's efficiency was the last thing Lenneth wanted to do! She didn't think it showed on her face, but just the fact that she remained silent was telling enough for Lezard.

"Ah." He did a slow adjustment of his glasses, looking away from her. "Forgive me. I suppose war is the last thing you want to talk about." What she wanted was to question him, but Lenneth wasn't a fool. She knew Lezard would be suspicious if she started prying so early in their relationship. She would have to cultivate a closer friendship, to lull him into relaxing his guard against her.

"I'm sure you're hungry." Lezard continued, and stepped away from the window. She turned to track his movements, noting he went over to the table where a covered tray had been set down. He didn't tease or patronize her in the moment, simply uncovering the tray rather than chide her for skipping out on dinner. The food there was warm, the scents growing stronger as she approached the table. "I didn't know what you would like." Added Lezard, as Lenneth curiously looked over the contents of the tray. "So I brought you a little of everything."

"I see." A pause, and then Lenneth remembered her manners. "Thank you." 

"It's no problem at all." Lezard said, but Lenneth wasn't paying attention to his words. She was looking at the food, trying to ignore the warm feeling that was spreading through her at his thoughtfulness. She told herself it was only a meal, that it didn't mean anything that he had thought to bring it to her. She feared Odin's enchantment would exaggerate every gesture, filling her with pleasured feelings for any scrap of attention Lezard might throw her way.

There was some kind of broiled meat, the pieces looking juicy and succulent, browned to perfection. There was an array of vegetables around the meat, potatoes and corn, carrots and peas. And some kind of golden colored liquid that just might be cider in a glass. But what stole Lenneth's interest, was the square pieces of brown on a cloth napkin. It was both familiar to her and not, Lenneth knowing it had been ages since she had indulged in such a thing.

Chocolate was a hard to find commodity on the battlefield. And it was as richly sweet as she remembered, Lenneth placing one of the squares on her tongue. She didn't close her eyes completely, enjoying the taste as the chocolate began to melt from the heat of her mouth. "Oh that's good." She breathed out in delight when she had swallowed the piece down.

Lezard was smiling, having noted her reaction to the chocolate. "I wasn't aware Valkyries had a sweet tooth."

She refused to blush or act flustered, though Lenneth did stop from taking another piece. ""Each one of us is different."

"I never accused you of being the same entity." He gestured for her to continue. "Please. Don't stop on my account." 

She both wanted and didn't want the chocolate. And all because Lenneth felt she had revealed a part of herself to Lezard through her enjoyment of the candy. Even as Lenneth told herself she had to work to get Lezard to let down his guard, she was hesitant of doing the same. As though fearing any bit of knowledge he gained about her would be used against her. To weaken her, to thoroughly enchant her into loving him.

Lenneth called upon the discipline she had used on the battlefield, forcing her fingers to pass over the chocolate squares. Instead she gripped a fork, and none too gently speared a piece of the meat. Lezard wore an amused expression, as though he knew exactly her reasons for avoiding the candy.

"They were asking about you at dinner." Lezard tried to make conversation.

"Oh? And what did they want to know?"

"Just where you were, and if you would find time to join in on the meal." Lezard explained. "Someone even accused me of purposefully hiding you away."

"That someone wouldn't be that blonde haired girl from before?" Lenneth asked in between bites of the meat that tasted like lamb.

"You are correct." Lezard let out an exaggerated sigh. "Mystina is spoiling for the chance to spend time with you. I'm afraid she won't be put off with many excuses. I did speak to her, speak to them all about behaving around you, and conducting themselves respectfully....but I fear some people's curiosity will win out."

"I will deal with them." Lenneth's tone was firm, as though she was bracing for battle.

"As will I." Lezard touched her hand, Lenneth fighting not to jerk away from him. "I want you to be comfortable here, Lenneth. To do that, you need to be treated as a person and not a specimen of great interest."

"Thank you." Lenneth said, tone more gruff than she would have liked. But she was fighting not to be touched by his regard, and that fight made her gratitude sound almost hostile.

He didn't seem put off by her tone, Lezard actually patting her hand before pulling away. "It will be difficult for us all. At least at first." He amended. "Everyone is so excited to see you, so curious about you. I hope in time they come to see you as a person, and not this great mythical figure."

"But that is what I was." Lenneth pointed out. "I was a Valkyrie, a minor deity. I'm older than anyone in this city. I've had centuries of experience...several lifetimes' worth of memories."

"But have you ever really lived?" Lezard's question took her aback. "Lenneth, your life has been the battle. You fight the undead and any other foe that dares to defy Odin. When have you had the break to experience something other than fighting? To learn to be something other than a Valkyrie? To be the woman you were born as?"

"Maybe I don't want to be that woman." Lenneth countered. "Maybe I was happy being a Valkyrie."

"Were you?" He asked.

"Yes." She set down the fork, and locked eyes with him. "I was good at what I did. I had a fine rapport with my einehrjar, and my work had meaning. I was protecting not only Asgard but all of Creation from the undead. Being mortal, being a woman in love....it pales in comparison to the purpose I had as a Valkyrie."

His expression flickered, something like disappointment briefly showing. "I can't give you so grand a purpose." Lezard acknowledged. "But...love is not so bad. Nor is putting down your sword, taking the rest you have earned after years of fighting. Even the sharpest blade dulls after constant use."

"I wasn't anywhere near past my prime." Lenneth countered. "I could have continued in Odin's service for decades, maybe even centuries more before I'd fall."

"You feel you were retired too early."

"I know I was." Lenneth said levelly. "If that fiend Brahms hadn't taken my sister, hadn't sent me back to Odin disgraced by my failures..." Some unreadable emotion crossed his face, but it was gone an instant later. "There are many what ifs. If I had succeed, or if I had been killed, regardless, it would be some other Valkyrie who was sent to be your bride."

"I don't think any other Valkyrie could be half as good as you." He seemed sincere enough, and Lenneth tried not to feel flattered.

"You don't even know me. You're certainly not in love with me. Any Valkyrie would have done, any at all." She felt satisfied that Lezard didn't have immediate objections to what she said.

"I don't know you it's true. But I want to make the effort to get to know you. Regardless of how we became engaged to one another, we are each other's future. Would it not be better to get along than to fight all the time?" A hopeful smile from him, Lenneth's stomach doing a little flutter to see it. Lenneth thought she was entirely too susceptible to his smiles. But she didn't dash it, knowing she had to woo him back to better her chances at learning from him, Hel's secrets.

"I don't want to fight you." She said out loud, and his smile brightened even more. "I don't want to hate the man I have to wed."

"Nor do I want you to hate me." Came his reply. "Ours may not be the most conventual of relationships, but we can give each other the chance. The chance to have it be something more than a marriage of convenience." 

She just nodded in response, wanting to take another piece of chocolate but forcing herself to instead take another bite of the lamb. If she couldn't resist something as small and inconsequential as chocolate, what hope did she have of resisting the love potion? Lenneth took satisfaction in denying herself both things, even as she began to quiver in response to Lezard unbuttoning his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Lenneth was pleased she managed to keep the alarm out of her voice.

"It's a bit warm in here." He explained, already attempting to shrug out of his jacket. His reason for disrobing reassured her, even as her eyes did a slow, contemplative look over him. Without the bulky jacket, she could better see his body, get a better feel of how large or small his frame was. He wasn't overly muscular, nor was his puny, being a pleasing in between. It was rather surprising, Lenneth expecting a mage to be a skinny weakling when it came to body mass.

Lezard had noticed the way she looked at him, his lips quirking in another one of his off putting smiles. This time heat flared in her cheeks, Lenneth quickly looking away. Lezard would lay the jacket on the back of a chair, close enough to reach but forgotten in an instant.

She was more than a little embarrassed over the way she had looked at him. And to cover that embarrassment, Lenneth's mind cast about for a topic to distract them both. "Do you know how long I was asleep?"

"Just a couple of days from what I understand." Another small smile from him. "I did not procrastinate on waking you." Her face grew hotter, Lenneth recalling just how he had woken her. And with that memory, she could practically taste his kiss, Lenneth remembering how he had touched and held her. The kiss had been necessary to wake her, but it didn't excuse the way he had lingered over her mouth. Or the way his hands had caressed over her belly.

"If you woke me soon after my arrival in Flenceburg..." Lenneth began slowly. "It should be only three or four days..." She trailed off suddenly, not wanting to finish the statement. Three or four days since her sister Silmeria had been taken by Brahms. Time enough for Silmeria to have awakened as a vampire. Maybe not enough time for Hrist to stop her from feeding.

She was going to frown from her thoughts, Lenneth giving a fierce shake of her head. "Was a black haired Valkyrie among the ones who accompanied me to this kingdom?" She searched his face for any signs of recognition as she described Hrist's appearance. "She wears armor that is a vivid purple, not too different from the color of your eyes. Her hair is long, not as long as mine, and her gaze is often describe as piercing. She wouldn't have smiled at all, regardless of her duty." Her voice went softer, Lenneth remembering something else about her older sister. "Hrist almost never smiles..."

"Hrist?" A questioning sound from him, and then understanding dawned "Ah, one of the sisters you mentioned."

"The eldest of we three." Clarified Lenneth. "She wears a sword, though her favored weapon is that of the halberd."

"I saw no Valkyrie such as you described." Lezard told her. "Certainly there was none that shared a resemblance to your features."

Lenneth nodded, trying not to feel disappointed that Hrist hadn't deigned to see her to her new home. Lenneth told herself Hrist had a more pressing responsibility, the need to see to Silmeria, and set their little sister's soul to peace. Lenneth was more sure than ever that Hrist must be in the midst of the journey to the vampire's island, and she sincerely wished her somber sister good fortune in her hunt.

Still she wondered who had made the journey with her to Flenceburg. But Lenneth didn't expect Lezard to know their names, nor did she expect the Valkyrie and their einherjar to linger once they had delivered Lenneth unto him.

"Your escort arrived late in the night." Lezard told her. "Late enough that it was almost time for the sun to rise. But many in the castle were already asleep, missing their chance to see your entourage." A small smile then. "I think it better that way. I'm sure the Valkyrie and their einherjar would not have appreciated a commotion over their arrival, any more than you appreciated the group that surrounded you."

She nodded. "They might not have been as reserved as I was in response to such a fuss." A wry twist of her lips. "Depending on who was sent, I dare say weapons would have been drawn."

His own eyes widened, Lezard looking surprised. "Isn't that overreacting?"

"Perhaps." She allowed. "But this is an enemy nation...or was. And we Valkyrie are bred for battle, having little tolerance for idle curiosity. Especially when the questions become personal in nature." They eyed each other a moment, and then Lenneth confessed. "Truthfully, I was about ten seconds away from violence myself when you interfered with those women."

"Wouldn't that have made an impression!" His tone was light, but Lezard grimaced all the same. "But please...do try to restrain such impulses. They really meant no real harm to you, and I would much rather you make friends than enemies of the people that live in this castle."

She could make no promises. "I don't know if these are the type of women I can be friends with." She sighed then. "They are so different from the women that I have known. So...frivolous and care free." 

"Maybe not as carefree as you think." Lezard murmured. She arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. "Yes, they can be a silly group of girls but don't underestimate Mystina. There are two sides to her, and while she rules uncontested over the women in her circle, she is concerned with more than just the day's gossip and the latest fashion. She is ambitious, and has a keen mind."

"You admire her." Noted Lenneth, and the look he gave her was interesting. Like an annoyed grimace, as though he was reluctant to admit to that admiration.

"I admire her accomplishments in the field of magic, and in her scholarly pursuits." Lezard hesitated. "In some ways, she is very close to being my rival. If I was just a little weaker, and she a little stronger, it would be Mystina who rules over this castle. But then..." A teasing look. "You wouldn't be here if that was the case."

"I'm sure Odin would have found someone to give me to in place of you." Lenneth said, a hint of depression in her voice. She forced herself to reach out and tentatively touch fingers to his arm. "From what I have seen so far, if you have not played me false and presented the true nature of your personality. I have not done so bad when it comes to a husband."

His lips twitched, Lezard fighting a smile. "Why my lady. That almost sounds like a compliment."

She surely flushed then. "It was meant to be one." She started to take her hand away, and he caught it. Lenneth froze, not sure if she should jerk her hand away from his. Her moment of indecision allowed him to caress his thumb over the back of her hand, Lezard smiling at her.

"Somehow I get the feeling compliments from you are a rarity."

"Ah." It was hard to think with him touching her hand like that. "I acknowledge when someone has done something worthy of being praised."

"Duly noted." He continued to smile, expression warm as he gazed at her. Lenneth was unsure of how to react, unused to being gazed upon so openly. It made her want to fidget and turn away, Lenneth feeling her cheeks grow hot in response to Lezard's look.

Even worse, he still held her hand, Lenneth unsure of how to extract it without giving offense. "You mentioned earlier that I am now susceptible. Susceptible to what?"

His smile dimmed, his expression taking on a more serious look to it. "You are mortal now Lenneth. Time is no longer your friend, and even your body can turn against you. Your bones can break, and illness can befall you. And regardless of what you are, there are people who would try to take advantage of you. Use you, against me, against yourself...."

"I am not so easily manipulated!" She protested.

"If they cannot gain use of you through subterfuge, than there are some who may try by force." Lezard countered.

"They will find themselves on the wrong side of my blade if they dare try!" But then Lenneth remembered she had no sword now, shoulders slumping with that realization. 

"I don't doubt that you will protect yourself. But you must be careful now." Advised Lezard. 

"What would you have me do? Rely on you?" The last held a touch of sarcasm to it, but Lezard nodded, all the more serious.

"I would be your friend, your ally. As your husband it is my right to protect you." Now she pulled her hand away, Lezard realizing too late he had said the wrong thing. "I would guide you." He said instead. "Help you navigate the muddied waters of your new world."

Lenneth allowed a moment to think about this. It was true she didn't know much about mortal existence. It had after all been centuries since she had lived in the mortal city Crell Monferaigne, a holy kingdom of Midgard that was devoted to Odin's worship. That time had been brief, perhaps seventeen years spent with her parents and her sisters before Odin had called Lenneth to Asgard.

The times had changed since those years spent as a teenage Goddess, mortal customs altering into new ones. What she had known of mortal life in Crell Mongeraigne, would be vastly different from life in a nation that followed Queen Hel's laws. She really did not know how to get along in a mortal world, had no money to her name, no assets to sell. It left her dependent on her husband to be, for food, shelter and emotional support.

"Very well." Lenneth said out loud. "I will accept your help."

Another smile from him, Lezard pleased. "For now, that is all I ask." 

Lenneth shivered at that, the words for now stressed between them. She well understood he had expectations of her, expectations that would become all the more apparent once they were wed. Lenneth could only be grateful Lezard hadn't insisted on an immediate consummation of their union, the man actually delaying their wedding to give her time to get used to him. Lenneth didn't think she would ever get used to the idea of being a man's wife, and she was even more leery of the idea of letting Lezard attempt to make love to her.

It might be foolish of her, but Lenneth was now harboring hopes that she could find out what she needed, and gain back Odin's approval with it. She might need never marry Lezard then, might even be able to return to being a Valkyrie. It seemed a better alternative then remaining in Flenceburg, suffering the love enchantment that would only grow stronger as Lezard touched and attempted to love her. Every touch, every smile, every heated look only served to make the chains around her heart grow tighter. How long before she started to become fond of him, and how long before that fondness developed into affection? It would only snowball from there, until Lenneth was hopelessly in love, and no longer willing to turn her back on Lezard. Not even to serve her king. It was something she couldn't allow, something she would fight against with every fiber of her being. But it didn't change her realization of how difficult that struggle would be, Lenneth looking away from Lezard as her heart panged in protest.

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To Be Continued of course!


	12. Twelve

Lenneth wasn't the type to wake up with a gasp or a scream. Not even when dreams had tormented her sleep, Lenneth's failures and fears plaguing her relentlessly. She had of course dreamt of her sisters, of Silmeria especially. In her dreams, Silmeria had changed, her eyes crimson now as proof that she had fed. Brahms was a shadowy presence by her sister's side, radiating approval of what Silmeria had become. And together they would attack, unleashing death and devastation on the plains of Idavoll.

Sometimes she dreamt of the day of her failure. Of the overcast sky, and the forest that had been splattered with her einherjar's blood. Lenneth could vividly recall the screams of the three Valkyries that had accompanied her, remember the sounds the vampires had made as they fed on those women. Lenneth even dreamt of the moment she had faced off against Brahms, her mind analytical as it tried to see just where she had failed.

Had Lenneth been too overcome with grief and horror to put up a proper fight? Had she let her emotions rule her actions when she should have steeled her heart? Lenneth knew she wouldn't have been anywhere as emotional had the Valkyrie in question been anyone but her favored sister. She remembered the desperation, the need to get to Silmeria. To save her from Brahms and a life as one of the damned.

Even in her sleep, Lenneth had flinched when Brahms fist connected with her face. It had been a cruel blow, one that knocked her unconscious. Lenneth was surprised it hadn't dislocated her jaw in the process. But the pain of his punch was nothing compared to the pain of losing her sister. Or of the worry that she might lose Hrist as well, Lenneth having dreamt that the older Valkyrie would lose against Brahms, her blood shared between the vampire Lord and his queen.

Even awake, her heart still raced, Lenneth trying not to shake in reaction to the dreams she had had. Would she ever know peace? Would she ever know what really happened to her sisters? Lenneth had a feeling that so long as she remained in Flenceburg, the ultimate fates of Silmeria and Hrist would be unknown to her. And that was something that was just as unacceptable as Silmeria being made into Brahms' vampire queen.

She wanted to return to Asgard. Wanted to resume her duties as Valkyrie. But more than that, Lenneth wanted the information that would be accessible to her only in Asgard. That made her all the more determined to do something to ingratiate herself back into Odin's favor. Lenneth couldn't shake the upset of her dreams, even though it renewed her determination. She felt wetness on her cheeks, and realized the dreams had moved her to silently weep in her sleep. It was a sleep she hadn't wanted in the first place, but eventually had been unable to ignore the need of it.

It had taken two days for her to reach Asgard to deliver word of her failure. It had taken at least a day, possibly two to deliver her to Flenceburg. Lenneth had been asleep for that time, and yet the enchanted sleep had done little to refresh her. As did the sleep she had taken this past night, Lenneth feeling exhausted from the horror of her dreams.

She was sluggish as she shrugged off the thin covers of her blankets. She had slept alone in the room that had been appointed for her temporary use. In a few days time, once she participated in the vow ceremony, it would no longer be her right to sleep alone. Lenneth shivered at that, wondering what would happen once she had to share a bed with Lezard. Wondering if he would control himself, and leave her alone in an attempt to gain her heart, or at least her acceptance. But she knew once they were sworn to each other, the consummation could not be put off indefinitely.

Sighing, she swung her legs out onto the floor. A thick carpet cushioned under her bare feet, her nightgown falling down almost to her ankles. Lenneth thought it as ridiculous a length as the gowns she had been given, the skirts so long and voluminous she couldn't hope to fight adequately in them. Lenneth wanted to do something about her clothing, and yet she had no money to see to a wardrobe that would suit her tastes. And then wondered what the fashion was for the women of this realm, recalling that Mystina and the other women had been clothed in elaborate gowns.

Another sigh escaped her, Lenneth grumbling as she walked about the room. The remains of her dinner had been cleared away, but the squares of chocolate remained. Lezard's eyes had twinkled, insisting Lenneth keep the sweets in case she hungered for a snack during the night. She had resisted the callings of the chocolate, still working on denying herself the things that might make her weaker.

The little songbird had awakened long before Lenneth, the sun's rising ushering in it's song. The cage was still perched on the windowsill, allowing the bird a different view from that of the room. Lenneth walked closer to it, pausing only long enough to pick up the seed pouch off the table. She'd sprinkle a liberal dose of seeds into the bird's cage, gaining an excited chirp in response.

For a few minutes she just watched the bird, a sad look on her face. Lenneth still felt as trapped as it, but realized unlike the bird, she could take steps to improve her situation. But first she had to bathe and get dressed, Lenneth turning away from the window. But not before she saw that some of the servants were out in the courtyard, enjoying the beautiful, sun lit day before work forced them inside.

She would bathe quickly but efficiently, and then put on the least outlandish of her few dresses. It was a bright blue, laced with black trim across the shoulder and cleavage area. A black ribbon wound about her waist, the blue skirts descending from it. Beneath it's ruffles, was an undercoat of black lace, about an inch showing where the blue skirts fell short. It had sleeves that only extended down to her elbows, much better than the ones that would drape over her hands!

And still Lenneth fussed, wondering if she could get away with cutting away some of the skirts. Or at least putting slits on the side so her legs could attempt better maneuvers. But the dress was surely expensive. Lezard would surely not appreciate her damaging it in that way. 

There was ribbons to match the dresses, and elaborately jeweled clips. Lenneth didn't bother with dressing up her hair, leaving it braided back in her preferred fashion. Still feeling ridiculous in the dress, she walked out of the room, not content to wait around for Lezard to call upon her. One reason because she did not know when he would awake, or even have time to visit her. But even more important, she wanted to scout out the castle, get a lay of the land. Maybe even do some snooping, and reconnaissance work though she doubted the inhabitants would be forthcoming with the information she hoped to get.

This early in the day, the halls were nearly empty. She saw only one servant, and a few guards prowling the halls. Many of the doors were shut, the nobles asleep in their beds. Lenneth wondered which room was Lezard's, and blamed her curiosity on Odin's enchantment. Nor did she try to satisfy it, purposefully avoiding asking the servant which room belonged to the Lord of this castle.

Her shoes were soft soled slippers, barely adequate covering for her feet. They made nary a sound as she walked along the corridors, Lenneth not having to worry about rudely disturbing anyone's sleep. She felt the eyes on her though, the guards staring at her whenever her back was to them. She pretended not to notice that they looked at her, instead concentrating on the various paintings that hung on the walls. They were in glided frames, bronze by the look of it. 

As Lenneth walked, she would come across that damning crest. It was unavoidable, the crest large and taking up the center of one wall. Hel's face was not detailed, but Lenneth scowled at it all the same, imagining the Goddess' infuriating smirk. Lenneth didn't try to linger before it, lest she give in to the temptation to do damage to it. And it wouldn't be the last of Hel's mark upon the building. Smaller crests were distributed through out the building, many not larger than the palm of Lenneth's hand. She hated seeing them, hated the reminders that she was in an enemy nation. One that worshipped the cruel Goddess of the underworld.

There was more servants on the first floor, some of them openly gawking at Lenneth. Others seemed unable to meet her gaze, hurriedly looking away as they bowed and curtsied to her. She couldn't muster up a genuine smile, but she nodded in response to their greetings. 

Here on the first floor, many of the doors were open. It was after all where much of the daily activities happened. She would find all manners of rooms, from a foyer, to a place to take midday refreshments. There was even a large hall, some sort of ball room or place to hold meetings. There was a library, and she lingered there, looking at the many shelves that were crammed full of books. Many of the tomes seemed geared toward magical practices, but there was some history books, and even novels for entertainment.

Aside from the book shelves, there was several soft cushioned chairs situated in the room. Perfect for curling up on, as you delved into a story. There was even a large window, it's clear glass offering a view of the stables. She would leave the library, asking one of the servants on how to reach the stable area. The man would be all too eager to guide her to it, Lenneth thanking him profusely once there. 

The stables were full of the familiar musk of horses and the scent of hay. The building was large, housing close to thirty horses. There were all manners, though none came close to the impressive war steeds the Valkyries rode upon in Asgard. But they were all beautiful beasts, Lenneth walking the individual rows of stables, pausing to greet each horse fondly. 

She was almost to the end of the third row, when she came across a stallion that was midnight personified. There was not a spot of bright color to disrupt the darkness of his coat and mane, furred flesh so dark it was not a pure black she saw. Depending on how the filtered sunlight hit him, he was either a black with streaks of vivid purple, or a black with dark blue mixed in. 

Lenneth was instantly drawn to him, coming closer with her breath held in awe. The stallion let out a wary snort, but otherwise held himself still as Lenneth entered his stall. His soulful eyes watched her every action, Lenneth sure to move with painstaking slowness as she approached him. She tentatively reached out with one hand, fingers stopping just short of touching his nose. The horse would study her a moment, then whinny, stepping forward to brush against her hand.

Lenneth almost smiled then, praise worthy words coming out of her. "You are magnificent." His nose was soft like velvet, and she stroked along the side of it, enjoying the touch. The stallion seemed to preen in response to her praise, his antics almost worthy of a rarely given laugh. She'd continue to pet him, noting how big he was. How strong he seemed. She didn't know what his speed was like, but if it was half as impressive as the physical aspects, than   
Lenneth would suspect the stallion had some divine blood in him too.

She wasn't so taken with the horse as to not note when someone else entered the stables. But she fought to keep from stiffening, knowing her nervous energy would only upset the horses. She kept an attentive ear tuned for the sound of the person's approach, but kept on plying attention on the stallion. The horse would be fine at first, but then his ears would flatten back, eyes turning wild.

"Easy..." Lenneth soothed, using both hands to pet and calm the horse. He held himself still for this, but his eyes were looking past her. 

"That's an interesting trick." It was a woman who spoke to her. Lenneth thought she recognized the voice, but she didn't turn to confirm her suspicions. "Obsidian doesn't normally let people touch him."

Lenneth took note of the stallion's name, continuing to soothe him with her touch. The footsteps drew closer, but the woman did not dare enter the stall. "I suppose this is more Valkyrie magic?"

At that Lenneth turned, a slight frown on her lips. She kept one hand on Obsidian's mane, hearing him snort restlessly. "Valkyrie magic?" Green eyes were boldly looking at her, set in an ivory colored face that was surrounded by gold hair. It was the one Lezard had named Mystina, Lenneth restraining a sigh. It seemed her moment of peace was already over with, Lenneth sure it was not by chance that the sorceress had come upon her in the stables.

After a moment of their gazes locked together, Mystina nodded. "Yes. You do the impossible." Her lips curved in a teasing smile. "You tame savage beasts with your mere presence."

"I'm not so sure Obsidian is savage, but more misunderstood." Lenneth told her, watching as Mystina turned further amused.

"I was talking about Lezard."

Lenneth managed to keep the surprise off her face. "Oh? I'm sure your Lord would be most displeased to hear you speak of him in that manner." But she had to admit her curiosity was aroused, Lenneth wondering if Mystina would reveal to her an aspect of Lezard's nature that had been hidden from her.

"Oh he's a beast, make no doubt about that." Mystina replied, hardly perturbed by Lenneth's veiled admonishment. "Ruthless, cunning, holding immense destructive powers. And yet around you, he's become almost protective."

Lenneth knew Mystina had to be referring to the way Lezard had stolen her away during their first meeting. "I see." It was all she could say, Lenneth not sure what would be a suitable reply.

"And then there's your impending marriage to him." Mystina continued. "Lezard has never been the type to settle down. Even with the crowds of desperate women throwing themselves at him."

"And are you one of the desperate?" Lenneth asked, question more than a little snide. But Mystina seemed to take no offense, a hearty laugh escaping her.

"Goodness no! Lezard and me? As anything other than rivals? Perish the thought!" She did an embellished shudder, as if the thought of a romance with her Lord was truly that horrific. "Fear not Valkyrie. You won't find me a rival for your fiancee."

"I am not concerned with that."

"Oh? But I suppose you have right to that confidence. You've done the impossible, gained his promise to wed you." Another assessing look from that emerald gaze. "But you are lovely...no wonder he wants you."

"If your Lord is at all like you say, then I think he wants more the alliance that comes from this marriage then me." The love spell made her heart hurt to think that way, but Lenneth didn't betray her pain to Mystina.

"As if anyone could truly force Lezard to do this against his will." Mystina scoffed with a shake of her head. "If Lezard was truly opposed to the marriage, he could have easily weaseled out of it. Foisted you off on someone else in Hel's council. No, Valkyrie. If he is marrying you, it's because he wants you."

Lenneth didn't feel she had the time to properly process what Mystina was telling her. But she found it interesting all the same, something like vanity making her pleased at the thought of that man wanting her. But just as quickly as she felt pleasure, she tamped it down, denouncing the emotion as utterly ridiculous and a by product of Odin's enchantment.

"We missed you at dinner." Mystina continued when Lenneth remained silent. "I hope you don't plan to skip any more meals."

Instead of making a promise about that, Lenneth locked eyes with Mystina. The sorceress seemed to freeze in place, a cautious energy to her as she faced the cold stare of a former Goddess. "Just what is your interest with me?" Lenneth asked, tone calm instead of demanding. "You purposefully seek me out. No, don't try to deny it." Lenneth said, cutting off Mystina's feeble protests. "It is no idle chance that you happened to come to these stables when I was here. What do you want of me?"

"Everything." Mystina then seemed to shake off the effects of Lenneth's stare, a pale pink blush on her cheeks. "I....what I mean is....well I have many questions. Things that maybe only you can give me the answers to. I want to know so much, about the heavens, about the wars. I even want to study you...."

"Me!?"

"Yes. You were once a Goddess. How does that differ from being a mortal? And if a deity can be rendered human, can the reverse be done?" Mystina asked the question that had been on Lenneth's mind since yesterday evening. "There's so much that can be learned from you. You have the wisdom of the ancients, you've lived for countless years. Even as a mortal, you are fascinating. Your entire kind is. You must retain some semblance of divinity within you, in order to pass it down onto your daughters. A Valkyrie's children are always blessed with their mother's intelligence, beauty, and battle proficiency. They excel in all things, nothing is beyond their capabilities. I want to know all your secrets!"

"But have you earned the right to them?" Lenneth wondered out loud. Mystina deflated a bit, disappointment in her eyes before she steeled her expression. "I think if Oidn wanted you to know, you would."

"Or maybe it's a challenge for us to discover on our own the mysteries behind the Valkyries." Mystina nodded at Obsidian who had retreated to the far end of his stall. "I can feel the divine energy coming off you. It's subtle, but truly it is that power that has had a calming effect on Obsidian. Who knows what else you are capable of? Do you even know? Or could we not discover it together?"

Again she was silent, thinking on Mystina's words. Could she really still hold a spark of divinity in her? One that Mystina and Obsidian sensed? And if it was there, just what could she be capable of? Lenneth did not know, but she wanted to find out. However, she was uncertain about throwing in with Mystian's research. "I will consider your request." She said at last. 

Mystina hid her disappointment well, the woman having clearly wanted an affirmative yes. "Of course. That is more than generous." 

Lenneth did a slow nod, giving Mystina a considering look. She had questions of her own, though she could not outright ask Mystina if she knew anything about Hel's true intentions. But she could work on establishing a rapport with Mystina, perhaps forge a friendship which would lull the girl into being loose lipped when it came to her Goddess' secrets.

"I understand that Lezard excels at many kinds of magic, with his specialty being necromancy." Lenneth began, trying for a casual tone. "What is your area of expertise?"

"Like Lezard, I have many skills when it comes to the wielding of magic. But I can admit to a certain fondness for astral projection and dream walking." Mystina told her.

"Astral projection? Isn't that dangerous for the user?" Lenneth asked. She knew enough of astral projection to know the user cast out their soul, traveling between realms for brief periods of time. The body had to be carefully guarded, for it would be completely defenseless so long as the soul was gone.

"Only if you don't know what you're doing." Mystina smile boasted that she had no such problem. But Lenneth had her doubts. No matter how talented the mage, the risks were simply too great.

"And is Astral projection useful to your mistress?" Lenneth questioned, pretending to be purely curious. "I mean, I can't imagine it being much use during a war."

"You're wrong about that." Mystina retorted. "Astral Projection makes spying a breeze."

"Provided the ones you are spying on have not warded against such an act." Countered Lenneth.

"True." Mystina frowned then. "I've never been able to successfully penetrate Asgard's realm." She shrugged then, as though not bothered. "Maybe someday I will. There's always room for improvement....but spying is really not my forte. At least not when employed by Queen Hel."

"Oh? Then what do you do?"

"I fight. I am nearly equal to Lezard when it comes to the destructive magics." It looked like it cost her to make that admission, something like envy burning in her eyes for Lezard's skill. "Not many can stand before my offensive might....though it has been ages since a true war has been fought here." She brightened. "I suppose if the alliance with your King holds through, I may get the chance to command armies once more."

"You just might." Murmured Lenneth, though she thought Hel's forces would be fighting against Asgard, rather than allying with them against Brahms. Louder voiced, she asked another question of Mystina. "And you...are you part of Hel's inner council?"

Again that flash of envy, Mystina not quite able to hide it. "No." She expelled a breath, than forced a smile. "No. I have not had that honor. I may be powerful, but I am no match for Lezard's skill." A pause, and then almost to soft to hear. "No one is..."

"No one?" Lenneth echoed surprised.

"Well, no one among the mortals." Mystian clarified. "He is without match among his peers. It is truly outstanding, considering the humble beginnings he came from."

"Humble beginnings?" Lenneth didn't need to do more than that to prod Mystina into talking.

"He was orphaned at birth." Mystina explained, and Lenneth felt her heart clench in response. It was a reaction surely brought on by Odin's enchantment, a pang of the heart that tried to make her sympathize with her husband to be. "Never knew his parents...never even knew who they were. No one knew. But there's all kind of speculations. People think they must have been powerful mages in their own right, their skills passed onto him. But...no one knows why they would have chosen to abandon the child....especially a child with such potential." 

She shrugged then. "It wouldn't take long for that potential to manifest. Before he was even out of diapers, he was doing petty tricks to entertain himself. Rather than be annoyed, his caretakers were ecstatic. It wouldn't take long for Lezard to be given the best of educations, nothing denied him where knowledge was concerned." Again that envious look, Mystina's lips pursing in a sour expression. "It was unusual. Such an education is expensive, the kind of expense that only the nobles can afford. And yet such was Lezard's potential, they let him have access to that knowledge without fee."

"Nothing is truly without fee." Lenneth objected, thinking that especially true in the lands rule by Hel.

"Perhaps. But from what I've seen, Lezard has yet to pay the price for all he's been given." Mystina sighed. "He's practically rules Flenceburg in Hels' place, has attained a status far higher than that of we nobles. He has a seat on Hel's inner council, he even has the Goddess' ear. He has a home, and immense wealth, and now a Valkyrie for a bride. When will the rewards stop?" Her hands clenched into fists. "He's been handed everything on a sliver platter practically since birth."

"You are jealous." Lenneth noted, and Mystina's eyes narrowed before she issued out a protest.

"Why should I be? Because he was given nearly everything that should have been mine? That he got with ease the life that I've worked so hard for?" 

"I don't know how easy or hard his life was. He may have been given the things he needed to develop his magical skills...but he lost his chance at knowing his parents. At having a connection that should have been loving. He may be prospering now, but trust me. Hel will make him pay. She will make you all pay..." Lenneth trailed off, not wishing to further antagonize Mystina. But there was truth to her words, Lenneth knowing the price for following Hel was a steep one. Lezard, and even Mystina's souls were stained. Paradise would surely be denied them, they would never escape Hel's grasp. 

And when the two ceased to be of use to Hel, the Goddess would take away all she had given them. Hel's blessings were always part curse. You could prosper one minute, and end up broken in the next. Lenneth wouldn't be surprised if the Goddess herself had been Lezard's benefactor, paying for his education.

"What do you know of it?" demanded Mystina, looking angry.

"You forget what I am...what I was." Lenneth corrected. "I have had dealings with Hel before. I know the goddess' mode of operation, and am familiar with how she builds up mortals, only to cut them down. It would be better if you forgot your ambition, forgot your jealousy and tried to do amends for your sins."

"Perhaps Lezard will tolerate your preaching. I will not." Mystina snapped, already turning to flounce off in anger. Lenneth was left with the impression that Mystina would probably never be her friend, even as the sorceress thirsted for the knowledge and divinity Lenneth possessed. This would not be the last run in she had with Mystina, of that Lenneth was sure.

As the stables' door slammed shut behind the blonde, Obsidian came forward to nuzzle his nose against Lenneth's back. She sighed, and reached behind her to touch him. "Perhaps I should not have said what I did..." Obsidian only snorted in response, nose moving about her dress as though searching for something. But Lenneth had no treats for the horse, much to her regret. 

"But I could not stand seeing her lust so strongly for a path that only leads to ruin!" exclaimed Lenneth. "It is dangerous, this anger and envy she has for Lezard's so called good fortune. She could be a powerful enemy for him....not that I care." She added softly, trying to convince herself of that thought. She then turned to face Obsidian, hugging her arms around his neck. 

"She could be a powerful enemy for me as well." Lenneth added as an afterthought. "I should be making friends, not antagonizing the people of this castle." Obsidian nuzzled her cheek, as though to remind her she had him for a friend. "Thank you." She said, still hugging the stallion. She then stepped back, Lenneth looking him over. "It is a beautiful day. And I think we both could use some fresh air. Will you let me ride you?" 

A whinnied out retort, the horse almost responding as though he really understood Lenneth. She thought that pure fancy on her part, but was greatly cheered by the interaction with the horse. A ride was definitely what she needed, and would give her the illusion of a freedom she felt she did not have. 

Turning away from Obsidian, Lenneth would walk out of his stall and over to where the tack and saddles were kept. The saddle was heavier than she expected, a stark reminder to her that she no longer possessed the strength of a Goddess. But she managed somehow, struggling with the saddle's burden as she walked back to the stall. But she was a long way from putting it on Obsidian, the doors opening to reveal her betrothed.

"Lezard." Lenneth felt a fluttering of her heart in response to the sight of him. He looked her over, gaze lingering not on her dress but the saddle she held. "I was just going for a ride." A hesitation then. "If that is permitted of me?"

"You are not my prisoner Lenneth." Lezard tried to reassure her. She nodded in understanding, privately relieved to hear that. "You can do as you please, provided you don't step past the cities' borders." 

"Because of the warding?" 

He nodded, walking towards her. "I just passed by Mystina. She was...visibly upset. Had some choice things to say about you."

"I may have spoken more freely than I should have." Lenneth admitted. She would not allow Lezard to take the saddle from her, not wanting to appear as a weak woman in need of a man's help.

"She'll get over it." Lezard decided.

"I wonder about that." Lenneth murmured, and continued back to Obsidian's stall. 

"Which horse were you thinking of riding?" Lezard asked as he followed her.

She answered without hesitation. "Obsidian."

"Obsidian?" He reacted with extreme alarm, shaking his head no. "It is not wise. Obsidian isn't tamed. He will not tolerate saddle or bridal. And he's thrown the last three riders who have tried to ride him bareback."

"I think he will allow me to ride him." Lenneth replied, but Lezard took hold of her arm to prevent her from stepping into the horse's stall.

"You can't know that for sure. He is a wild, savage creature. I think his spirit will never be broken. I only keep him around as a stud to the mares."

"You just never had the right person deal with him." Lenneth said, patient though she glanced pointedly down at his hand gripping her arm. But Lezard did not let her go, actually drawing her away from the stall.

"If you must ride, please...some other steed. I don't want to risk you." He looked uncomfortable then. "You are mortal now. People have DIED from being thrown from a horse. Or have been horrible crippled."

She hesitated at that, realizing it was a valid point. But she still wanted to ride Obsidian, to prove the horse was just misunderstood. By her silence, Lezard interpreted it to mean she was in agreement with him, the man already trying to drag her to another horse's stall. "Come...we'll saddle Euphriatates and Phandir. We can go for a ride together before breakfast."

She abruptly dropped the saddle, just missing Lezard's foot. He was startled enough to let go, and Lenneth took advantage of her renewed freedom to enter Obsidian's stall. Lezard cried out in protest, sounding panicked. Obsidian however, was overjoyed to see her, whinnying and nuzzling her affectionately. Lenneth couldn't help but be smug as she looked at Lezard as she hugged the horse.

"I have made my decision." Lenneth announced. "And poor Obsidian is suffering from neglect. He needs to be ridden, needs to go outside."

"All right. Fine." Lezard conceded. "If you can get him to tolerate the saddle and bridal, then you will have convinced me." Lenneth didn't quite grin, satisfied with his challenge. What's more, she knew she would succeed his expectations where Obsidian was concerned.

Crooning softly to the stallion, petting him into compliance, Lenneth would get the saddle on the horse. The bridle bit took a bit of coaxing, but eventually the stallion was ready to be ridden. Lenneth's gown awkwardly puffed up around her as she sat in the saddle, Lezard hurrying to get his own horse ready. His was a stallion that was smaller than Obsidian, a dappled brown and white creature that lacked fire to his spirit.

Together they would slowly ride the horses out of the stable, Lezard laying out the route they would take into the heart of the city. Lenneth listened intently to his directions, sure she had them memorized. Lezard still wore amazement that she was on Obsidian, his tone gruff as he asked a question of her. "You ready?"

She nodded. "Just try and keep up." Lenneth told him, and with a click of her tongue and heels, had Obsidian break into a racing gallop. She heard Lezard's shout out her name, and it made her want to laugh. It seemed even her fiancee had not expected the speed of the horse, being left behind in Obsidian's dust. Of course he would try to catch up to her, but the dappled stallion was no match for the ebony beauty. Lenneth knew she would lead Lezard on a merry chase, and enjoy every minute of it too.

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To Be Continued!


	13. Thirteen

He was warm with blood, the nourishing drink coursing through his veins. A flush of pleasure was on his face, visible proof that he had fed recently, the blood giving color to his cheeks. Brahms still had the taste of the girl he had drank from in his mouth, the blood paling in comparison to the sweet drink he had taken off of the former Valkyrie Silmeria. Even days later, he still vividly recalled the taste of Silmeria's divine blood, enough to want to moan over it.

She wouldn't taste the same now. Not after the change to her very nature. But Brahms knew he could never hate his bride's taste, even if her blood now bore the taint of the vampire in it. Silmeria's taste would be uniquely hers, and something Brahms would enjoy. Just as Silmeria would enjoy the taste of Brahms, if she would only give in to his urgings to feed.

The first night had passed without success in that endeavor. Silmeria had steadfastly refused to give in, ignoring the needs of her body. Brahms felt frustrated over that, even as he was impressed by her strong will. He wondered if she would resist the need to feed on this, the second night of her life as a newborn vampire. Could she be strong enough to starve herself unto the third night? He didn't know. But it pained Brahms that he had had to feed separate from her. 

He felt guilt too. Perhaps perversely, he had wanted to endure Silmeria's fast together with her. As though suffering through hunger pangs together, would bring them closer together. But there was risk in starving himself. Risk to Silmeria. Blood gave him control, made him act like something other than a fledgling. With fresh blood in him, he could control his desire for her, remain level headed instead of needy and lustful. It would keep him from jumping on her like a hungry, sex starved fledgling.

There was another advantage to being fresh on blood. He would be able to better feed Silmeria, should she give in to her need to feed. Last night, he had expended much of the precious liquid, trying to tempt her into feeding. Brahms had replenished what he had lost and then some, full of enough blood to feed a starving fledging and even a third vampire.

He passed by vampires as he walked to the room he had given up to Silmeria. As much as he had wanted to sleep the day away with her in his arms, Brahms had known she was not ready for such a step. Even if all they would have done was sleep! 

Brahms wondered if Silmeria had risen yet. It was still early evening, not even an hour since the sun had set. Newly created fledglings had difficulties their first few months, groggy and slow to awake. It was important that they had an elder vampire be their protector, to watch over them until they became more alert and aware. Silmeria had proved surprising as a fledgling, Brahms recalling how instantly alert she had become upon seeing him. And not just that she had shaken off her sleep so fast, but her strength and speed had been far too impressive for a mere fledgling.

Brahms had theories about that. The chief one being Silmeria had been a Valkyrie once. That some essence of her divinity had clung to her, enough to mutate the transformation. She was the first divine to be made into a vampire, the first save for one other. And Brahms was well aware of how that one had fared, his lips quirking in a humorless smile as he fought against the memories.

It wasn't just Silmeria's divinity infused blood. Brahms himself had used HIS blood to transform her into a vampire. Something he hadn't done in several centuries worth of time. Brahms understood his blood was powerful, and constantly evolving to become even stronger. To the point some of his own power could have been transferred unto Silmeria. Between the two potent bloodlines, he may have created a powerful new kind of vampire. 

Or maybe it was just a fluke, a rare occurrence. Perhaps tonight Silmeria would be as weak as any other fledgling. But as Brahms approached the locked door to the bedroom Silmeria was imprisoned in, already he could hear her moving about it's confines. She was awake and active, and seconds later would let out a very unladylike curse.

He immediately unlocked the door, outwardly calm as he walked inside the room. Silmeria was standing by the window, an angry glare on her face. She didn't deign to acknowledge Brahms, instead rubbing a hand against her dark purple skirts. He could smell the faint scent of magic discharged, and from the evidence presented, surmised the ward on the window had been activated. Silmeria had not heeded his warnings, actually testing the enchantment on the window in an attempt to see if it was a viable escape route.

He didn't reproach her for it, didn't call attention to what he had noticed. Instead Brahms locked the door behind him, then walked towards Silmeria. Like him, she had changed into clean clothes, no sign of blood on the white top. Her blond hair was loose and wild, as though she had run her claws through it. Brahms glanced at her hands, and noted her claws were still there. Silmeria had never calmed down enough to have them revert to normal, even when she had slept.

Brahms made a tsking sound, hands already reaching out for hers, She didn't gasp, but she turned, trying to bat his hands away. Brahms was patient, catching one in his grip. "They will never go back to normal, so long as you are unable to calm yourself." Silmeria just narrowed her beautiful blue eyes at him, glaring silently as he began massaging the hand that he held.

"I know this is a trying time for you. For us." Brahms told her. He was working over her fingers, trying to relax the tension from her hands. Unfortunately the very act he was doing, was making it difficult for Silmeria to be anything but tense. "But this stress is not good for you. Not good for your body." Still she only glared at him, fingers stiff in response to his massage. "Stress only serves to agitate the hunger, to make your need more pressing."

Not even that had gotten her to speak to him, Brahms holding in a sigh. It appeared she was determined to give him the silent treatment, a punishment for the temptations he had offered her, and the truths he had tried to reveal to her. Truths that weren't even half revealed, Silmeria refusing to consider any of what he said about Odin, about the war, as real.

Brahms could acknowledge that perhaps he had gone about it all wrong. That he had been less than tactful, insulting both her King, and the very Valkyries who had been her sisters in arms. He inwardly cringed and cursed, remembering the crude comment he had made about the Valkyries expected service. A comment that had earned him her anger and a slap on the face. 

Brahms couldn't win her over to the truth if he continued to blunder about, disrespecting everything she believed in. Even if those beliefs were all based on lies. He was impatient for her to know everything, but more than that he wanted her to realize he spoke the truth. But it would be difficult for Silmeria, the girl finding out her entire existence, her purpose had been based on Odin's lies. There would be a domino effect, one thing after another falling apart in the face of the truth. But as things shattered, new pieces would fill the void, letting Silmeria see the truth wasn't nearly as horrific as she had thought.

He had time. They both did. Brahms understood that when he rushed, he made a mess of things with her. He could hold off on talks of Odin, maybe even of the war. Though he desperately wanted her to see the war wasn't as black and white as she had been led to believe. That his people, the vampires had a legitimate reason for fighting. One that had nothing to do with them being evil, and doing it for fun and profit.

Odin and the war were topics he should avoid, but perhaps a lesson on vampires was needed. It was as he had said, there was much she didn't know. Much she needed to understand, about the very nature of the vampires. He held her gaze as he massaged her hand, but already realized it was a fruitless endeavor. She would not relax enough for her claws to revert back to human nails.

"Silmeria..." She immediately cut him off, a petulant request being issued out.

"I want out of this room."

"That's not possible." She huffed angrily, and jerked her hand free from his. "At least not yet."

"When then?" Silmeria demanded.

"Maybe soon." Brahms answered. He reached for her hand again, catching it though she tried to evade him. "There are things I want you to understand before I let you roam about the castle with me."

"Things?" Her body was reluctant to his pull, Brahms leading her over to one of the room's chairs. "More lies about Lord Odin? About the war?"

"No. Let us put aside that for now." He placed his hands on her shoulders when it became obvious she wouldn't sit of her own accord. "Here, sit with me." Gentle force was exerted, Brahms pushing her down onto the chair's cushion. He would use his preternatural speed to fetch a stool, sitting in front of Silmeria, so that their knees touched together.

"Yesterday, I offered you a chance to learn about the vampires. To learn about us as a people." Silmeria opened her mouth as though to protest, but Brahms spoke over her. "I think it important you learn about your own kind." 

"The vampires will never be my people!"

"You can say that even with those fangs in your mouth, and those claws on your hands?" Brahms challenged. She lowered her eyes, the only hint of her flustered state.

"I have not fed. I will NOT feed. Ever." She sounded as though Silmeria was trying to convince herself of that too. 

"It is inevitable Silmeria. The time will come when you can no longer resist the blood's call. But lie to yourself if that comforts you now." He didn't mean to be unkind, but her adamant refusal of her new nature annoyed him. "Now...I can understand you might be scared to learn a different view of the vampires." Her chin lifted, Silmeria looking defiant.

"Why would I be scared?"

"It has to be difficult, to learn that which you thought as nothing more than monsters, might be more complex than that. That they might have real feelings and morals, real ambitions and dreams, hopes and desires." Brahms told her, watching as she glared once more.

"You speak of morals and vampires in the same breath? Do you want me to laugh?" Silmeria demanded.

"You have been conditioned to be prejudiced against my people. You hate and fear, and that will be tolerated only so long." Brahms told her, and she looked worried then. "You cannot rule what you despise..."

"I don't want to rule at all!" Silmeria protested.

"Maybe not now, but someday, once we are past this, and you accept your new life..."

"That will never happen!" Silmeria exclaimed, and he felt the agitated tremble in her legs.

"I would wager with you that you are wrong. But it would be an unfair gamble." Brahms did a half smile at her. She did not return it, looking distressed. "Silmeria, please. You just have to listen. It will cost you nothing to hear what I have to say. If your belief is real, is strong, than what I say won't change it."

Her shoulders sagged, Silmeria giving a stiff nod. "Very well. I will listen. But it won't change anything!"

Brahms hid how relieved he was by her acquiesce. He leaned forward, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to choose where to begin, what examples to give her. He thought again of how she and the other Valkyries referred to the vampires as monsters. That was hardly the truth, not entirely. "You often call our people monsters." Silmeria looked ready to object his calling the vampires their people. But he didn't pause for her protests. "But just as there are extreme differences between the vampires and the rest of the undead, there is another kind of vampire."

"Another kind of vampire?" Silemria's brow furrowed.

"Yes. And those are the true monsters." Brahms tried to settle his thoughts, his voice low and precise as he spoke. "Sometimes...something goes wrong with a vampire. Sometimes it stems from the attempt to transform a human, the vampire attempting such an endeavor not being powerful enough to convert a human completely. Other times, it comes from starving oneself. A vampire can only go so long without blood before he or she becomes mindless." There was a warning in his voice, one Silmeria acknowledged by shivering in fright.

"Regardless of their origins, the mindless vampires become consumed with the need for blood. They drink without stopping if they can, bloating themselves on the blood. Killing the source, even making others like them." He paused to gauge her reaction. "We call them revenants, abominations that obey no King. These monsters have been responsible for wiping out whole villages, slaughtering indiscriminately. Much of the fear of the vampires come from the revenants."

Brahms sighed then. "Of course we police our own kind. As soon as a revenant is learned of, a group of hunters is dispatched. The revenants are put down as soon as possible, but sometimes not before they have killed dozens if not hundreds of innocent people."

She was hugging her arms around her, as though Silmeria was feeling a real chill from what Brahms had told her. "Revenants are a dangerous creature." She acknowledged. "I can only imagine the kind of devastation they could do if unleashed during a war."

"We would never use them, not even for military purposes!" Brahms snapped with a low growl. "They are uncontrollable, and turn on each other, turn on anyone close to them. They care only for the blood. They would massacre both sides in a war!"

"So it's self preservation that keeps you from making use of them." Silmeria decided, and Brahms growled again.

"We do not use them because it is wrong!"

"And you expect me to believe your people care about right from wrong?" Silmeria's disbelief was apparent. Brahms was almost tempted to run a hand over his face, feeling exasperated by her prejudice.

"You forget, the vampires start out as mortals. Just because they have transformed into enhanced versions of themselves, doesn't mean they lose any of their morals. Any of their feelings, or even their soul. Vampires are very much like mortals, having the ability to choose between right and wrong, to decide between good and evil. It is up to the individual vampire to decide what force they will align themselves with. And many choose to do GOOD."

"You said many, but not all." Silmeria was quick to note. "What of the vampires who choose to do evil?"

"It is unavoidable. No race is purely good or bad." Brahms told her. "Not even the Gods." She huffed at that, not liking the perceived insult to the divine pantheon. "And just as no race is entirely one thing, a people shouldn't be judged based on a few bad seeds. Nor should they be condemned, wiped out for the crimes of a few."

"You stress the vampire's origins are ultimately that of mortals. That they retain the mortals freedom to choose between good and evil." Brahms was nodding his head to what Silmeria said. "But unlike the vampires..." Silmeria had turned snide, haughty even. "Mortals do not hold such powerful destructive capabilities." A pointed look from her, Silmeria acting as though she was victorious. "What mortal can rival one of these revenants in slaughtering so many?"

"You know better than that." Chided Brahms. "Beserkers lose themselves to a warrior's fury, turning on friends and foe when under the influence of their rage. They kill many when under the rage, sometimes not stopping until someone guts them dead." She actually turned sullen in response, not liking how he countered her feeble argument. "And what of the mages?" continued Brahms. "The mortals who are magically inclined, many of them align with Hel. And we both know what the evil they do in her name."

"And yet you sometimes ally yourself with her!" Silmeria was quick to point out. "She gave you control of the rest of the undead."

"I make use of the tools available to me, while protecting creation from the worst of the monsters." Brahms calmly explained. She snorted, even s Brahms corrected what he said. "At least the monsters that are not mortal."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Just what it implies." Brahms said. "There are many of mortals that choose to ignore the Gods' guidance, that use the freedom of choice to choose evil. I'm not just talking about wars, which your Odin so favors for they give him new warriors. But the killings, rapes, and thievery. The countless and creative ways the mortals find to hurt each other. If you want to look at true evil, look at the examples the mortals set. Serial killers, rapists, pedophiles. Some even attempt the complete genocide of an entire race. Much like Odin is trying to do with the vampires!"

"I thought you weren't going to talk about my King?" Silmeria asked, annoyed.

"Perhaps we can't avoid the subject of Odin completely." Brahms admitted. "I don't mean to bring him up with the intent to upset you...."

"Somehow I doubt that..." She muttered.

"After yesterday, I suppose you have a right to that thought." Brahms told her. "We've talked about the choice to do good or evil. Perhaps we can tone it down some, and speak more on the vampires as individual personalties. Just because a person is turned, doesn't mean they lose their feelings, their likes and dislikes. They are still passionate about things, still enjoy the same hobbies, still employ the same skills."

Silmeria said nothing, but at least she was listening, her gaze focused on him. "When we are not engaged in war, we are living much like the mortals do. We have friends and rivals, we have businesses. We even have a social hierarchy, with levels of status assigned to each vampire. If Odin would let us, we would live out our eternity in peace...." 

"You can never truly be at peace." Argued Silmeria. "Not so long as you feed on the other races."

"It need not be a forceful relationship." Brahms countered. "A vampire can feed without killing the donor."

"Donor implies willingness to submit to this act. I think victim would be more appropriate."

"Not all the mortals of Midgard are unwilling blood givers." Brahms saw the shock on her face. "Some would willingly submit, for money and favors, for even the chance to became immortal."

Her jaw dropped for a moment, Silmeria sputtering in reply. "That is...unthinkable. Unforgivable!"

"The mortals of Midgard do not have the best lives. Many are willing to do far worse things than give a little blood to escape the sickness, poverty, and desperation of their situations." He bit back a comment that it was Odin's fault. That it was Odin neglect that allowed such desperation to fester. There was much to blame Odin for, many wrongs that needed righting. But it would do his case no good to list them all to Silmeria now.

"We vampires offer these mortals a deal that is mutually beneficial to us both. It costs them nothing but a few pints of blood now and then."

"Are you done with your tales?" Silmeria asked. "Can I go outside now?"

Brahms stared at her a long moment, feeling as though she had not truly understood anything he had told her. A keen sense of disappointment filled him, Brahms wondering how often he would have to repeat the discussion before it sank in to Silmeria. "Do you think you can behave yourself if I take you out of this room?"

She gave him an offended look. "It is not I who have behaved badly."

He didn't argue about that. "If I take you out, you will be sure to encounter other vampires. I am worried about what will happen."

"You think they will hurt me?" Silmeria smirked. "Let them try."

"It is you I am worried about. I don't want you ruthlessly killing our people!" A stubborn set to her lips, Brahms sighing. "Until you can promise me you will not try to kill the other vampires, I cannot risk taking you out of this room."

"Fine. I promise not to attempt to kill anyone tonight." She paused, then amended. "Provided they don't attack me FIRST."

He considered this. "I can allow that. But trust me Silmeria, when I say if someone attacks you, they will have to deal with my wrath first." His eyes blazed with a promised threat, his look both protective and possessive in the moment. He meant it too, Brahms protecting the woman he considered his. He would tolerate no attacks on her, would slip into a rage with ease. In fact, he would be hard pressed not to kill the offenders, Brahms recalling how brutally he had destroyed the vampires who had been responsible for Silmeria's debilitating injuries.

If he had had any doubts that Silmeria was meant to be his, the killing rage that had come over him in response to her injuries had vanquished them. But Brahms didn't think it would help his case to admit to that just now. Perhaps in the future, when she was settled and had accepted the transformation he had forced on her.

Silmeria had reacted to his look, seeming to shudder in place. He couldn't tone it down, eyes fierce a he rose. She stood as well, Brahms offering his arm to her. She hesitated but ultimately took it. It was silly, but just that she willingly touched him filled Brahms with immense pleasure. He wouldn't be surprised if he was glowing, the two heading for the door which he unlocked with a spell. 

Silmeria's eyes were alert, the girl watching how he unlocked the door. But just like the window was warded against vampires teleporting in and out, the door held a similar enchantment. She would not be able to break it, not until Brahms decreed her trust worthy enough to no longer be confined to this room. 

There was more than just pleasure in her touch. Brahms was thrilling at the thought of being seen with Silmeria on his arm, of introducing her to some of his people. He very much enjoyed the thought of showing off his beautiful bride, of seeing her interact with his vampires. He didn't have to think long on just where he would take her, Brahms leisurely leading her through the castle. Their destination was the old ball room, where many a noble socialized the night away.

Their hearing was superior, but had they been mortal, they would have heard the loud music from as far away as one lengthy corridor. Brahms wondered how Silmeria was adjusting to the noise, knowing it could be overwhelming for a fledging as they struggle to filter out one too many sounds. It was easy for him to tune out the many conversations, knowing that at any point he could choose one to focus on. But he wouldn't eavesdrop on his people.

They reached the grand doors of the old ballroom, two vampires on guard besides them. The doors' upper portion was glass, allowing the lights of the ball room to filter out into the hall. For one moment they just stood there, Brahms letting Silmeria peer through the glass at the partying vampires. He wondered what she thought of them, and even tried to imagine the sights through a fledgling's eyes.

The ball room was as tall as it was wide, stretching up to the very roof of the castle. The ceiling was smooth, with an artful fresco painted on it's stone. It was all dark reds and black, with some white sprinkled liberally about. It was turbulent emotion translated by colors, the red reminding Brahms of the life giving blood that made up the vampires diet.

The floor was marble, and to his regret, there was a few blood stains that hadn't been wiped away before the liquid had set into the stone. The walls had thick curtains of heavy velvet on them, hiding private alcoves from view. Those alcoves could be used for both a feeding, or a rendezvous with a lover, though most vampires preferred the privacy of their own rooms when it came to love making.

There was no buffet tables in this room, the vampires having no use for food. But there were several humans intermingled with the vampires. These men and women were scantily clad, their arms, legs, and especially their necks bare. There were bite marks on much of their exposed flesh, the vampires not discriminating where they would sink their fangs in. Some of the bite marks were fresh, but many were older, healing wounds.

A band played on stage situated in the eastern corner of the room. The musicians were all vampires, playing music in a way that their mortal counterparts could never hope to mimic. Some vampires danced to the tunes, but many stood in circles, conversing with one another. They were dressed in a wide assortment of clothing, many choosing to wear the fashions of their homeland, and the time period in which they had existed as mortals. 

There was not an overabundance of black clothing to be found. The vampires simply weren't that cliche. But they shined with the wealth on display, especially the women who wore thick necklaces, and jewels in their hair. Nearly every female had her hair swept back with a clip, leaving an unobstructed view of the sides of their necks. It was done on purpose, vampire males finding slender necks just as enticing as womanly curves. Some might say the revealed necks were the ultimate tease, and many vampiresses were attempting to attract a male's attention with that display.

Silmeria had yet to notice the humans. Brahms could tell by her lack of an appalled reaction. "It's...it's different from what I thought it would be." Silmeria admitted quietly.

"Were you perhaps expecting a blood bath?" Brahms couldn't help teasing her. "Or perhaps an orgy?" She lowered her eyes, and that was signal enough that she had thought the worse of the partying vampires. He chuckled softly under his breath, and did not miss the question she asked.

"What exactly is an orgy?" That gave Brahms pause, the vampire not sure how to explain it to a girl who was sexually naive.

"Something I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy." He said at last. "Come." He glided them forward, the guards pulling open the doors. The motion drew the attention of some of the vampires, and they reacted to the sight of their King. Depending on their status, they did anything from a bow, to going down on one knee, all in attempt to show Brahms and his bride the proper respect.

As they did this, a rippling motion spread through the crowd. The music stopped, as one by one every vampire turned to acknowledge the new arrivals. Brahms actually felt Silmeria tighten her fingers on his arm, but it was the only sign of her nervousness.

For several minutes, Brahms just stood there, gazing out into the crowd. He could feel them assessing Silmeria, trying to ascertain the level of threat the former Valkyrie posed to them. He knew they would be surprised, surely underestimating her due to her fledgling status. But they were well aware she was under their King's protection, and thus would not foolishly make a move against her. Some might hate her, but only the insane and suicidal would attack her now.

Satisfied all had seen Silmeria, Brahms gave a subtle nod of his head. It was enough to restart the party, many vampires resuming their previous activities as the music picked up. Silmeria was still clinging to his arm, but she moved when he did as though the girl feared being left behind. He wouldn't leave her to fend for herself, not without a good excuse and another protector ready to stand guard in his place.

"Lord Brahms." A female vampire was approaching, looking delighted to see him. "It is not often you join us here." She tskd then, ruby red lips pursed together as she clicked her tongue. "You're always so dedicated to the battle, always so busy with the war."

"Sureen." He nodded at her. "It is not often I can get away from the front lines..." He then presented Silmeria to the vampiress, the woman briefly looking at the former Valkyrie. "May I introduce you to my bride, the lady Silmeria."

"Ah your bride. I didn't even see her there." Sureen exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth in feigned dismay. Silmeria seemed to stiffen, recognizing the vampiress was purposefully baiting her with that claim. "How do you do?"

"I've been better." Silmeria told her.

"Hmm yes, I'm sure you have." The vampiress said. "Brahms has she fed yet? She is looking practically starved." Before Brahms or Silmeria could answer, Surren was already snapping her fingers at one of the humans. The man was a green eyed, black haired youth who came forward with an eagerness to his steps. Brahms heard Silmeria gasp, and a glance at her face showed her staring at the human with hunger and horror equally sharing her gaze.

"I...I won't feed." Silmeria immediately stated, and Sureen frowned. 

"Won't feed? If you are worried about privacy, there is always the alcoves." A shrewd look came into her eyes. "Or is it you think feeding on blood is beneath you?"

"Sureen don't bait her!" Brahms snapped at the same time Silmeria answered the question.

"It is."

Surren tsked, and sent the human back into the crowd to dote on some other vampires. "She hasn't yet accepted what she is now?" Brahms gave a stiff nod of his head. Something like sympathy appeared in her eyes, but it was not for Silmeria she gave that look to. Surren was showing she well understood what Brahms was going through with Silmeria. Understood and felt for him.

Unfortunately Silmeria misinterpreted Surren's look, a low, threatening growl coming from her mouth. "I do not want or need your pity."

"Then you are fortunate for you do not have it." Surren delivered that statement with a haughty sniff, not even looking Silmeria's way. "Do try not cause our King too much grief with your obstinate refusal to feed." 

"He is not my King!" Silmeria snapped. "I follow no man but Lord Odin."

"The God? As if he would want or accept a vampire in his court." Surren laughed, a pretty sound that held cold mocking to it. "The grandeur of Asgard is forever in your past, closed off to you now. You'd do well to accept that." A smile at Brahms. "And accept Lord Brahms too."

"Surren, your tongue is as sharp as ever." 

"Oh my Lord, ever do you flatter me!" Surren batted her eyelashes at him in a playful, almost flirtatious manner. Brahms hadn't entire meant his words to be interpreted as a compliment, but wondered if Surren's caustic tongue might not have a positive impact on Silmeria. Certainly it couldn't hurt the girl to hear someone else's bad opinion of Odin.

"He's good at that." Another vampiress had approached, her flaming red hair still not as fierce a shade as the crimson that colored her eyes. She smiled as Brahms met her eyes, stepping towards him to place a solicitous hand on his chest. The vampiress would raise up on tip toe, straining to plant a welcoming kiss on Brahms' cheek. 

"Risana." Brahms named her, the heat of her kiss lingering on his skin. She had fed within minutes of coming to him, the blood on her breath and warming her chilled lips.

"It is good to see you my King." She still lingered her fingers on his chest, the touch just short of inappropriate considering he was now wed to Silmeria. "I do get ever so lonely when you are not around."

"Now now, you know that is not true." Brahms chided her. "You have no end to male and female admirers."

"Yes." Agreed Surren. "You are never one to want for companionship."

"The men here cannot measure up to his lordship.' Countered Risana, looking coyly at Brahms through lowered eyelashes. She was laying it on thick, and not for Silmeria's sake. Risana had always been one to chase after Brahms, hoping to inspire a love match between them. It would be good to put distance between them, Brahms touching her hand and attempting to remove it from his person. But Risana would quickly glide her hand towards his neck, an unasked touch as she examined the faint scars where his and Silmeria claws had torn open the skin. "This did not happen on the battlefield."

"No it did not." This time Brahms succeeded in casting away her hand, the move dismissive enough that Risana would surely not attempt another touch. Risana glanced at Silmeria, and something twisted in her expression. A second later she was back to her dazzling, flirtatious smile. "I am happy for you Brahms." She nodded at Silmeria. "It is...good to make your acquaintance."

Brahms had expected Silmeria to make some cutting remark, but the girl only nodded. At some point she had let go of Brahms' arm, the vampire king distracted enough by Risana that he hadn't noticed right away.

Other vampires were approaching, all high in the status that made them think they had a right to demand access to Brahms' time. A small cluster would form around him, the men and women eager to see the Valkyrie that had stolen their King's heart so completely. They weren't crude enough to make too many pointed comments, but Silmeria's tension was heavy all the same. Heavy enough to practically taste on his tongue. 

Unfortunately, some couldn't help express concern over how peaked Silmeria looked. They wondered if she would faint, knowing Silmeria was forcing unneeded suffering upon herself. Silmeria seemed annoyed by their concern, her eyes flashing as she snapped about not being so weak as to collapse from a little hunger. Brahms was quickly realizing the hunger was getting to her, putting Silmeria in a foul temper.

Her fangs were flashing more and more as she spoke, Silmeria visibly agitated in the presence of all these vampires. She wouldn't relax, even once the conversation started to move on to things that had little to do with Silmeria and her refusal to feed. Surren began leading the group in a discussion about the latest, greatest work of the vampire novelist Stocke. Silmeria could not really participate in the conversation, having not read the book nor realized that vampires could and did create their own works of literature.

While not quite an eye opener, it was a conversation that exposed Silmeria to an aspect of vampire life she had never dreamed existed. She listened without interruption, eyes flickering from face to face. Brahms wondered what she searched for in the faces of the vampires around them. He wondered if she noticed how at ease and animated the people were, how passionate they became as they argued the merits of certain scenes.

Occasionally he would give his own opinion about Stocke's work, but mostly he was content to observe Silmeria. It was why he saw it when her eyes began turning towards the human donors, a keen sense of yearning on her face. She was projecting her hunger in an embarrassing display, but the vampires were too polite to call attention to what Brahms' bride was inadvertently doing. It wasn't that they respected or liked Silmeria, but that they didn't want to risk Brahms' displeasure. It was clear to all he was taken with his fledgling, ready to indulge her in numerous ways.

A vampire shouldered his way into the heart of the group. He had salt and pepper colored hair, having been made a vampire late in his human life. There was even uncharacteristic age lines on his face, but rather than make him look haggard, they merely gave him a distinguished look. Most vampires had an eternal appearance of youth, but Gideon had just enough age to make him a unique oddity among the vampires.

"Gideon." Brahms couldn't keep the concern out of his voice, knowing if Gideon was here, trouble was brewing. It was up to Brahms to find out what that trouble was, and make the decisions needed to neutralize the threat. "What is it?"

Gideon did a subtle sidelong look at Silmeria. It was enough to tell Brahms it was about a subject Silmeria should not hear. "Ah, if you will excuse me?" Brahms asked the group who was already nodding in response. But he didn't immediately leave, taking Silmeria's hands. "I won't be gone long."

"You're leaving me here?" Was that dismay mixed in with Silmeria's surprise? But Brahms didn't delude himself into thinking it was fondness that made her want him to stay close.

"Just briefly. There is a matter I must attend to....Vandimeer will escort you back to the bedroom." Vandimeeer, a vampire that was frozen at an eternal thirty-two stepped forward, ready to offer Silmeria his arm.

"Oh Lord Brams." A protest from Surren, one that the others echoed. "Surely she doesn't have to go just yet? The night is young, and we've barely gotten a chance to enjoy the lady's company." 

"Let me say." Silmeria urged him. "I.." Her lashes lowered. "I don't want to stay locked in that room."

He was still hesitant about this, even with the others trying to persuade him otherwise. "All right." He said at last, Surren smiling in victory. "But remember your promise." He gave a firm squeeze of her hands, then slowly let go. "Vandimeer, watch over her."

"Yes my King." 

As Brahms walked away with Gideon, he heard Risana ask, "Promise, what promise?" But he didn't linger to hear Silmeria's answer.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	14. Fourteen

It was simply amazing, astonishing even. To think that her captor, the vampire that was so obsessed with her, had actually deigned to allow her a chance to remain somewhere other than in her cage was shocking. It was more than Silmeria had honestly hoped for, the girl having expected no real chance to get away from Brahms. And yet here she was, free from him. It was a temporary freedom, but one Silmeria intended to take advantage of the first chance she got.

She tried not to let her excitement show, to act unaffected in the moment. But it was difficult, elation and smugness filling her, Silmeria thinking Brahms just a little stupid for trusting her in this manner. If the situation would have been reversed, she would have never left him alone. Of course, she wasn't as alone as Silmeria would have liked, a room full of vampires crowded in besides her.

By Silmeria's estimation, there was at least fifty in all, plus fourteen humans foolish enough to offer themselves as snacks to these monsters. She knew there was another two vampires on guard in the hall outside the ball room. All in all, not good odds for one lone Valkyrie. Especially one who no longer had access to her divine strengths, or her einherjar for back up.

A grim humor filled her, Silmeria recalling how she didn't want to actually live. Not as one of the undead. What did the odds matter when she thought like that? She could go out in a blaze of glory, taking as many vampires with her as she could before one of them succeeded in delivering the final strike that ended her existence. But something held her back, barely restrained her from starting the fight she could not hope to win. Was it the predator inside her? The instinct for survival at all costs? Or did she foolishly, selfishly want to see her sisters one last time?

It might be better to let the vampires kill her. It would save Lenneth and Hrist the painful task of doing it themselves. Lenneth would especially suffer, she and Silmeria sharing a close bond that went beyond the realm of sisters. They had been each other's best friend. Silmeria wanted to see Lenneth, even as it would force her sister to take up arms against her. All because she wanted the chance to reassure Lenneth, to tell her one last time she loved her and did not blame her for what had happened with Brahms.

That might be the only solace she could give Lenneth. Silmeria knew that Lenneth would be torturing herself, blaming herself for what had happened. It was a burden, a grief Lenneth might carry for all time. Silmeria had to do what she could to alleviate her of it.

Her thoughts took only seconds to play out, the vampires around her talking. The one called Surren, a shrewd face woman, was eyeing her now. Silmeria didn't quite scowl, eyes fierce and challenging as she grit out a terse word. "What?"

"I am just surprised. I truly did not think you would want to remain among us." Surren explained.

There was a reason she had not wanted to return to the bedroom that had doubled as her cage. And that reason had nothing to do with the vampires around her. Silmeria didn't try for pleasantries, plainly speaking her thoughts. "I don't. But anything is better than returning to that room. Even if I must remain amongst you vipers."

Surren's expression flickered, but she did not become as angry as Silmeria would have expected. "Oh my. You do have a low opinion of us, don't you?" The vampires closest to them had ceased their conversations, their interest obvious as they watched the exchange between the two females.

"It is an opinion you earned." Silmeria retorted. "With your war mongering, your zest for killing, your torture of innocents."

"Except for that last one, I'd think you were talking about the Valkyries." Surren countered, and Silmeria's eyes blazed.

"You would dare?!"

"What is there to dare about? I speak the truth. You Valkyries live for war. And you cut down any who stand against you and your King. Oh I'm sorry, former King." Surren corrected with a smirk. "I know of you Silmeria. I know you have been ruthlessly slaughtering our people for generations!"

"It's what they deserved." Someone gasped, she thought it might be the red hair vampiress Risana. "You think the undead are any better? When they have killed countless soldiers, both Valkyrie and einherjar? When you vampires lust after Valkyrie blood, and use the power you gain from it to kill even more of my people?!"

"I almost pity you Silmeria." Surren said. "Caught between two worlds, never to be accepted by either." 

"Surren!" It was Vandimeer who spoke the vampiress' name so sharply. "That's enough."

"No, let her speak." Risana urged. "She needs to hear this."

"Lord Brahms would not approve." Grumbled Vandimeer.

"Lord Brahms is not here." Pointed out Surren, even as Silmeria glowered at her. "But of course, I will respect his need to coddle and shelter his bride." A small smirk in response to Silmeria's glare. "I will look forward to the day Brahms tires of you. That he realizes this infatuation is nothing so meaningful as a real and lasting love."

"As if you cold hearted creatures even know what love is!" Silmeria snapped back. Surren laughed, the mocking sound grating on Silmeria's nerves.

"Well, now, this is a stimulating conversation." Surren turned dismissive. "But ultimately a pointless one." She turned to Risana, as though intent on ignoring Silmeria's presence. "Is that a new ring Risana?" At the red hair woman's nod, Surren laughed. "No doubt from one of your many paramours. Come, let me look at it more closely." 

It shouldn't have mattered, but Silmeria seethed all the same at the dismissal. Surren's every word, every gesture got to Silmeria in a way that few others had. And the former Valkyrie didn't think it had solely to do with the fact that the woman was a vampire. There was just an instant dislike between them, Silmeria having no experience with a woman quite like Surren.

"Forgive her." Vandimeer said softly from besides her. "Brahms' absence has made her forget her manners." 

"I don't think she had any manners to begin with." Silmeria retorted, not bothering to look at the vampire. Instead she was looking around the room, judging the distance between here and to the door. Silmeria knew there was little chance of her sneaking out of the room. The vampires were too busy watching her, as though hoping she would provide them more entertainment than she already had. Nor did Silmeria think she could so easily slip away from Vandimeer, the man taking seriously Brahms' order to watch over her.

She didn't quite sigh, continuing her study of the room. The vampires closest to her were talking again, but it was about things she had little experience with. Silmeria neither knew who Dante was, or why she should care that he had made a spectacle of himself over some woman. It was all just petty gossip, Silmeria surprised the vampires didn't have more pressing concerns.

But then these vampires were unlike the ones she was used to dealing with, seeming almost frivolous and carefree. Silmeria's lip curled, the girl thinking that the vampires in this room would prove no challenge at all to Odin's armies. The war would have ended ages ago, if these soft creatures who were bloated on blood had been the true soldiers of Brahms' army.

She idly wondered how the war was going, but Silmeria was sure in the five days since her kidnapping, not much had actually changed. Certainly not enough for either side to be inching towards a victory. She didn't miss the fighting, but she did miss the camaraderie of the other Valkyries and einherjar. She missed being in the know, of having direct access to the information that trickled in about the victories and losses they suffered in the war.

But those were avenues closed off to her, the camaraderie lost forever. The Valkyries would kill her on sight, horrified by what Silmeria had become. It was a horror she shared, Silmeria trying to ignore the reminders that her claws were. Not that she could close her eyes and pretend to be something she was no longer. The hunger wouldn't let her forget, always a constant demand deep within her. 

The hunger was what was making her so irritable and short tempered this night. Not that Silmeria cared about making friends with the vampires. But she didn't like that she was so quick to snap, so hostile in response to everything said to her. It was a weakness, this uncontrollable hostility making her easy to read. Surren had been quick to take advantage, goading Silmeria on to further heights of anger.

It wasn't just Surren, it was this room. It was the people here, and that included the humans. She was appalled, and the fact that the humans weren't frightened or upset but actually eager to serve, did little to lessen her disgust. And yet she couldn't keep from looking as a vampire male led a pretty human female into one of the hidden alcoves. Nor could she block out the sounds and smells of the feeding, Silmeria's now superior hearing and sense of smell letting her experience the blood drinking as though she was there in the alcove with them.

She trembled, but it was so slight no one would know unless they touched Silmeria. She closed her eyes briefly, but that did not succeed in blocking out her awareness that a vampire was satisfying his blood lust. Satisfying his hunger in a way Silmeria could never.

She opened her eyes, and saw some of the vampires had moved enough that she had a clear line view of several of the humans. They were waiting by the hidden alcoves, making themselves readily available should a vampire want to tap a vein. One had turned to look at Silmeria, as though sensing her hungry gaze. A question would be in the woman's eyes, her hand going up to caress fingers over a bite mark on her neck.

It was sudden and fast, the violent response she had to those fingers teasing an invitation to her. Silmeria wanted to go to the woman, wanting to take her up on her offer. But she remained rooted to the spot, just staring. Her fangs had lengthened, well prepared to take a neck, to take nourishment into her. She needed the blood, a need so powerful it hurt things inside her. It horrified her too, Silmeria wondering how close she was to falling if she was actually lusting over a human's blood. It had been bad enough to desire Brahms', but now she craved blood from one of the races she had once been sworn to protect.

She was unaware that Surren had noticed her intense response to the human's offer. The vampiress was quick to bait her, quick to insult. "Look at you." Surren sneered. "You can't even control yourself. You're practically salivating at the thought of feeding. How uncouth!"

The embarrassment broke the spell the human's blood had cast on Silmeria, the girl whipping around to glare at Surren. But before she could make a snide comment of her own, Risana was speaking. 

"It's disgusting, it is." The red haired vampiress exclaimed. "She can't even control her appearance." Silmeria's hands began clenching into fists, the tips of her claws digging into her palms.

"Ladies." Vandimeer said in a warning tone. "Stop."

They ignored him, circling around Silmeria. "Your refusal to feed endangers us all. You are barely better than a revenant."

"She'll kill us all if she continues to starve herself." Risana said, trying to incite the crowd. Silmeria could have laughed, knowing with her mind intact or not, the urge to kill these monsters would always exist. 

"That's enough!" Vandimeer shouted. "Brahms will not let his bride become a revenant."

"Then why has he done nothing to gain control of her?" demanded Surren. "I tell you he has been bewitched by her. She is dangerous. To us and to our King."

"That is not for you to decide." Vanidmeer retorted. "Brahms can handle a fledgling."

"Brahms can rot in Hel's embrace for all I care!" Silmeria burst out rudely.

"Better Hel's than yours!" Surren snapped. "You make our King careless! He does thing he shouldn't. Not only did he turn you into a vampire, but he let that other Valkyrie go. When he should have torn her throat out, and shared her blood with us!"

Silmeria truly lost all restraint then. She knew and understood Lenneth was safe, that Lenneth had been spared by Brahms. But the mere thought of Lenneth being killed, reduced to nothing more than a blood buffet for a group of power lusting vampires was enough to make Silmeria see red. And with it, her rage was unleashed, Silmeria moving fast. Faster than anyone had expected of a mere fledgling.

There was no time for Surren to react, not to that first attack. Certainly she didn't get her hands up in time to block Silmeria's claws slashing over her front. The only thing that saved her throat from suffering the same fate Surren had wanted for Lenneth, was the thick ropes of pearls around it. Those pearls clattered to the floor, the necklace ruined by Silmeria's claws.

Silence seemed to come over the ball room. It was a silence Silmeria did not heed, already swinging her arm out to back hand Surren across the face. The vampiress' scream was lost in the force of an expelled breath, her head turning from the strength of Silmeria's blow. 

"Lady Silmeria!" Vandimeer cried, stepping towards her with the intent to subdue her. 

Blood was at the corner of Surren's mouth, she touched it now and narrowed her eyes at the sight of it on her fingers. "No. Let her come." Surren said, turning to lock eyes with Silmeria. "Let her learn the follies of a fledgling challenging an elder!"

Silmeria was sure that was supposed to send a quiver of fear through her, but the girl was unimpressed. She thought Surren weak and spoiled, more familiar with verbal attacks than any actual fighting. Where Silmeria was a warrior, a Valkyrie trained since an early age to become an accomplished soldier. A commander of armies, an expert in many forms of fighting.

That included hand to hand combat, Silmeria ready to use her hated claws to rend flesh from Surren's body. She didn't even hesitate, already going to swipe her claws across Surren's middle. The expensive fabric of her dress was shredded like paper, revealing the alabaster skin beneath it. Surren would not tolerate a fourth attack, using her own speed to dodge Silmeria's claws.

Even as Surren evaded the swipe, the vampiress was pivoting on her heel, to deliver a spine crushing blow to Silmeria's unprotected back. It should have disabled Silmeria, but the girl was merely staggered. Slow enough now to endure a slap from Surren, the vampiress tangling her fingers in Silmeria's hair. Her face was driven downwards to meet Surren's uprising knee, but at the last moment Silmeria grabbed onto her leg. 

With a hiss, she jerked on that leg, knocking Surren off balance. The vampiress fell to the floor, and Silmeria landed on top of her. She settled her weight on top of Surren, and began pummeling her with her fists. The pummeling would last only seconds, Surren having no problem heaving Silmeria's slight weight off her.

Perhaps it was chance, or maybe it was by design. But Silmeria was airborne, flying backwards over the heads of the vampires. The humans screamed and scattered, and Silmeria crashed into one of the alcoves. Stone splintered around her, the caved in bench digging into her back. She jerked free just as Surren appeared before her, slapping her again hard enough that Silmeria bit her cheek.

When Surren attempted to drive claws into Silmeria's stomach, the girl caught the vampiress by the wrist. She turned and twisted that arm behind her back, Surren struggling. Silmeria moved to tear out Surren's throat, rage replacing her hunger in this instant.

But before she could complete the move, a strong hand locked around her wrist. Silmeria's lips curled back, she snarled at the vampire, blind to everything but the fact that she was surrounded by her enemies. She hadn't gone mindless like a true revenant, but her hunger and anger was driving her closer to that point. In her adrenaline heightened state, she was little more than a wild animal, lashing out and any and everyone.

But to do that, she had to get her hands free. She threw Surren away from her, and used the hand that had held the vampiress to drive her claws into the man's right eye. He screamed in pain, and she heard other shouts, including a woman gasping over what was happening.

"She's too fast and too strong for a fledgling!"

"She's going to kill us all!" screamed Risana.

"Not if we kill her first!" A man shouted.

"No one is killing anyone!" Vandimeer screamed to be heard.

"Tell that to her!" Someone else snapped.

And all the while Silmeria fought, attacking anyone within reach. And there was many, vampires charging her, trying to stop and hurt her. Her dress was ripped, and her skin was clawed open, but the pain wasn't enough to get her to stop. Maybe nothing was, Silmeria smelling blood. It was different from the blood of the humans, being that tainted brand that flowed inside the vampires' veins. It was everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, on her. 

It fed into her hunger, but she couldn't feed. Not while the attacks still came. She effortlessly fought back, arms and legs a blur. At some point she had torn her skirt, removing enough of the fabric to free her legs. It eased her movement, Silmeria lashing out with a high kick that had her foot planted firmly in a vampire's face. Someone grabbed her arms, but they couldn't stop her legs, Silmeria kicking out with both to knock back the vampires in front of her.

When her feet were on the ground again, she bent forward, struggling to get free. When that didn't work, she violently drove herself back, hearing the cracking of bone as her head connected with someone's nose. A yelp followed that breaking, Silmeria tearing herself free. She turned, and got her hand around a neck, lifting the male off the ground so his feet dangled. His claws scrabbled at her arm, trying to injure her enough to get Silmeria to drop him.

Someone charged her from behind, Silmeria lashing out with her arm. The vampiress was airborne, flying back from the violent force of Silmeria's hit. She was still holding onto the vampire by his neck, starting to squeeze but slowly. As though drawing out his torment, feeding off the pain in his eyes. 

A bang was heard, the grand doors of the room being flung violently open. Silmeria did not turn, but she caught the scent of the new player on the field. It was a familiar smell, one she recognized and in her volatile state, accepted. She turned, dropping the vampire who quickly crawled away. Her eyes barely took notice of the ruined room, how the heavy curtains had been torn free of the hidden alcoves. 

Nor did she pay any mind to the vampires that stood frozen or lay in crumpled heaps on the floor. Instead her eyes locked with a crimson gaze, a gaze that was familiar to her even if the anger in them was not. That anger confused her, didn't belong in the expression of the one who had looked at her so tenderly just an hour ago. But it wasn't enough to stop her from coming forward, her gaze riveted on the impressive male who stood glowering at her.

Someone stepped in front of her, trying to prevent Silmeria from going any further. Her expression became enraged, she snarled as she moved to attack. And all because the foolish creature had dared to get in her way of what she wanted. But her attack never landed, the vampire airborne as the newcomer tossed him out of the way. The vampires moved, dodging the crash of the one who had been thrown.

"Leave us." Came the gruff growl. Someone dared to protest.

"But my Lord..." 

"I said LEAVE!" He roared, voice so furious and commanding the others were powerless to do anything but heed his desires. 

The vampires paused only long enough to gather up their injured. Silmeria was barely aware of them. They existed like shadows out of her awareness. Unimportant so long as they didn't get in the way of her and this magnificent male. 

His eyes were intent on her, the vampire moving with painstaking slowness for a creature that could be so fast. She held herself still for his approach, Silmeria quivering with anticipation. The last of the vampires fled the room, the doors slamming shut behind them.

"What are you doing!?" The male demanded, coming to a halt before her. He was close enough to touch, and her claws curled in delight just imagining how he would feel under her palms. "You broke your promise to me! You've jeopardized everything...everything I hoped to do, everything I hoped for."

She didn't understand what he was saying, but she sensed the current of anger in the words. The anger made little sense to her, as did the fact that this male was not touching her the way she wanted him too. He looked disapproving, a hand gesturing angrily about the state of the room. She didn't care about the mess, didn't care about anything but turning aside the anger into something she could work with. 

He was still talking, stern and stiff. She couldn't take it any longer, and she reached out with both her hands. She didn't move with the speed inherent to the vampire this time. She wanted to go slow, to savor every moment. Her hands landed flat on his chest, and she could feel the muscles beneath them. He was muscular all over, being a big, brawny man. He dwarfed her in size, and yet she thrilled at the differences, recognizing him as a powerful male.

It was more than just his power she recognized. She knew down to her bones he was hers. It was unmistakably, this male belonging to her as she did to him. Her lips curved in a pleased smile, her head tilted to the side as she began to caress her hands over him. His words died down in his throat, a strangled sound coming in response to her touches.

The sound amused her, adding to her boldness so that she gripped the fabric of his shirt. She wanted the shirt out of the way, wanted to touch him directly. And Silmeria saw no reason not to take what she wanted, her hands violently splitting the shirt open. She leaned in afterwards, inhaling the scent of his skin. Rich, flavorful male assaulted her senses. Rich, INTERESTED male whose arousal increased when she rubbed her cheek against his skin.

Hands touched her shoulders, gently but insistently easing her back. Discontent filled her, Silmeria didn't want to be pushed away. She hissed and struggled against his hold, his hands sliding down to grip her arms. With bruising pressure, he stilled her, staring into her face. She sensed enough of his mood not to squirm in his grip, holding still for that soul searching gaze. When he frowned, she frowned too, mimicking the confused feelings he expressed. And all because Silmeria wondered why he wasn't doing more than hold her.

At least most of his anger had died down. His eyes did a slow once over, his frown deepening. "You're hurt." The pain was pushed to the back of her mind, but he was letting go to touch a particularly long gash on her side. She'd endure worse to have him keep touching her, and Silmeria reached out to cup his face in her hands. A slight tug, and he looked away from the gash. Silmeria smiled, and remembered how to form words. "Want you."

Her words were a sultry growl, voice rasping low. She leaned in, inhaling his scent as she licked at the lobe of his ear. His ear seemed to twitch in response, his hands once again grabbing her arms. But he did not try to push her away, holding himself still as Silmeria began kissing down the line of his strong jaw. A sharp inhale from him, his eyes closing in sensual delight. Silmeria continued to kiss and nuzzle him, grazing her fangs' tips in nibbling little kiss. It wasn't enough to bleed him, she wasn't ready for that kind of claiming.

No, this need of hers went beyond a simple blood letting. It left her yearning, wanting to be possessed by him in the way of males with females. But he wasn't acting on his arousal, holding back from her. It frustrated her, and her affection grew desperate, needy. He said her name, but again made no attempt to push her away. She wasn't as indecisive as him, and with desire shining in her eyes, she pressed her lips to his.

He didn't kiss her back immediately. But his lips trembled in response. His hands continued to grip her arms, but his hold was weakening. She pressed more insistently against him, lips fitting together with his as she worked to encourage his active participation. She wanted more than a kiss, she wanted to wind her arms around him, cling to him. Rub her body over his delicious hardness.

Stubborn male. Still refusing her charms. It only fed into her admiration, Silmeria fascinated by everything he did. She waited for his restraint to give in, knowing his passion would be a maelstrom that would consume them both. She kissed him harder, and his lips did the slightest parting. She made a low keening sound, and suddenly his grip strengthened. But he didn't push her away, instead holding them together as he kissed her back with all the force of his passion.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued!


	15. Fifteen

He had been clear on the other side of the castle when the fighting broke out in the ball room. Far enough away for the fighting to continue uninterrupted for quite some time. Of course, even a minute of fighting was intolerable, but what had happened in the ball room was nothing short of a disaster. The room AND the people had been wrecked, blood everywhere from the many injured. Brahms thought it would be nothing short of a miracle if no one died this night.

There was a dozen reasons why he was at fault. A dozen reasons why this might not have had to happen. Brahms thought to himself if only he hadn't left Silmeria alone, if only he hadn't gone far enough away to not hear what was happening. If only he had never taken her out of her room! Even waiting until Silmeria had fed her hunger for the first time might have avoided the disaster entirely.

He couldn't dwell so completely on what ifs and self blame. Not when he had to do damage control. But before he could even do that, Brahms had to deal with a fledgling's fury. It shouldn't be that difficult, or at least it wouldn't have been if the fledgling had been anyone other than Silmeria. Once again Brahms wondered at just what he had created in turning a Valkyrie into a vampire, knowing there should have been no way for a fledgling to cause the kind of damage that Silmeria was responsible for.

The room was in shambles, blood stains splattered everywhere. That included on Silmeria, the girl disheveled and wild looking. Her clothing was badly torn, in tatters especially about her legs. She had given as good as she got, and the fact that Silmeria was still standing was another reason to be amazed. Brahms instantly knew none of the other vampires were going to like the strength she had displayed this night, and inwardly he let out a curse.

His assessment of the situation took only seconds. Brahms kept his eyes on Silmeria, his own anger simmering. As angry as he was with himself, Brahms was also angry and disappointed in her. And all because Silmeria's actions had jeopardized everything he hoped for, everything he worked to accomplish for their future together. He wouldn't let despair fill him, Brahms holding onto his anger. Letting it fester as he locked eyes with his bride.

Silmeria actually came forward, looking almost normal given how volatile she had been just seconds ago. But she wasn't repentant, not even in the face of Brahms' anger.

Some fool then dared to step between Silmeria and Brahms. He couldn't see his bride's face, but he heard her snarl. Before that sound had time to form, Brahms was already moving, using his impressive speed to snag the man by the back of his jacket. Without any care for the vampire he had grabbed, Brahms hurled him away. The preceding crash was an impressive sound, the man moaning in pain.

"Leave us." Brahms ordered, and someone dared to protest this. He grew even angrier, though a part of him knew the protest was born out of the desire to protect their King. But the day Brahms needed protection from his own bride, was the day he gave up his right to rule over the vampires.

"I said LEAVE!" The anger in his voice was such, that no one else dared question the order. The vampires hurried, quick but cautious as they gathered up the injured and fled from the room. Brahms would wait to speak until the doors had slammed shut, stepping in close to Silmeria. 

"What are you doing?!" Brahms demanded. "You broke your promise to me! You jeopardized everything...everything I hoped to do, everything I hoped for!" His bitter disappointment in her was showing, Brahms glowering at Silmeria. She said nothing in reply, just stared at him. It fed his agitation, Brahms letting frustration loose as he began angrily gesturing with his hand.

"This is not what we do! We are a civilized people, no matter what you may believe! There are rules! Laws to be followed, obeyed! What you did goes against everything that...that..." Silmeria had moved, her hands coming forward to touch his chest. He didn't try to stop her, though Brahms was wary of what she was attempting to do.

He tried not to let the fact that Silmeria was touching him distract from his anger. "What you did tonight, it is a good way to get yourself killed! Is that it? Did you do this because you wanted to die? Because you hoped someone would put you out of the misery you continue to wallow in?! Or were you simply reacting as a Valkyrie, attacking a people you still view as your enemy?! You.."

Her hands were moving, actually caressing him. It felt far too nice in comparison to the anger that boiled within him, and even then the act stole a strangled sound from his throat. Her blue eyes seemed to twinkle in response to that noise, and before Brahms could regain his composure, her hands turned gripping. In an instant she had ripped open his shirt, Silmeria seeming to sigh in appreciation at the sight of his skin.

Brahms was startled, but it didn't stop the first signs of arousal from taking root within him. Especially with the way Silmeria was looking at him, her gaze admiring as she leaned in. He stopped breathing when she leaned in, Silmeria inhaling his scent and rubbing her cheek directly on his skin. He reacted to that nuzzle, some of his anger lessening as confusion took hold of him.

And with that confusion was a wariness, Brahms reaching for Silmeria's shoulders. Though he wanted nothing more than to linger with Silmeria pressed against him, Brahms forced himself to push her back. That earned him an angry hiss, Silmeria struggling though she could not stop him from pushing her away. His hands slid down off her shoulders, Brahms gripping her tightly to stop her fight.

She reacted to the pressure on her arms, Silmeria holding herself still and looking back into Brahms' eyes. He frowned, his search of her eyes revealing little of what he expected to see. She wasn't angry, nor was Silmeria completely there. But he knew she hadn't gone to the mindless place of a revenant, or else she would have never held still for his inspection. No, this was something else, something far more manageable.

More of his anger left, expelled when his worries over the state of Silmeria's mind were relieved. She wasn't a revenant, and right now that was all that mattered. Enough that he wanted to hug her, to reassure them both that everything would be all right. But he resisted that impulse, Brahms doing a slow once over of her body. This time his gaze lingered on the many cuts and marks on her body, including a long gash that was bleeding. 

She couldn't really afford to lose any more blood, not when she was refusing to feed. "You're hurt." Brahms stated, letting go of her to press fingers to the gash. She didn't react the way he expected, no pain lacing her expression. Instead she reached out to touch him, Silmeria cupping his face in both hands. It didn't take much prodding from her, Brahms lifting his gaze back to her face.

He was unprepared for her smile, the first she had ever given him. The beauty of it was nearly enough to steal his breath away, and the words she rasped out had his heart beat quicken. Silmeria told him she wanted him, and that was as astonishing as it was hard to believe, even when Silmeria leaned in to lick at his ear! Brahms didn't know what to make of this, but he instinctively knew Silmeria was not the type to try seduction to get out of a trouble she had earned.

She continued to tease his ear, Brahms going still in response when her kisses began working down the side of his face. Every little kiss a delight, his eyes closing as he gave himself over to her affection. But the feel of her fangs grazing made them snap open, Brahms startled   
anew. 

"Silmeria...!"

She didn't reply in words, her affection taking on a more desperate air. She'd actually kiss him, lips so sweet and pressing insistently against his. He had seen the desire shining in her eyes, a desire Brahms had longed for, for what seemed a small eternity. And yet this was all wrong, Brahms understanding something was wrong with Silmeria. She wasn't herself, but driven by her lusts. Violence had turned to sexual arousal, but it was not Silmeria who was in true control but the predator inside her. The essence that made her a vampire.

At some point his hands had taken hold of her arms once more, but it was no longer to restrain her. No, Brahms need something to add stability to the turbulent emotions that that threatened to bring him to his knees. Silmeria's actions actually had him trembling, Brahms trying to restrain himself from kissing her back.

It was a losing battle, especially with Silmeria straining to press more than her lips against him. He scented the arousal coming off her in waves, and it only heightened his. Knowing this was a mistake, and unable, unwilling to stop it just yet, Brahms parted his lips. Silmeria took care of the rest, making a low keening sound as she kissed him harder. All semblance of restraint severed, Brahms' grip tightening as he began kissing her back in earnest.

He told himself he meant to only taste. To make a memory that would serve him well on the cold, lonely nights he spent waiting for Silmeria to love him back. 

But it wasn't as easy to stop what he had started, Silmeria making eager sounds as his mouth sealed overs hers with rough possession. She was squirming fitfully in his hold, but not to get away. Never that! She wanted to go to him, to press as close as possible. He'd let her, pulling her so that her body ended up plastered against his front. And all the while her squirming sent delicious tingles straight down to his cock. 

He groaned, the sound pure desire and eaten up by Silmeria. His tongue came forward, almost of it's own violation, plundering ruthlessly into her mouth. She met and matched him with her own, their tongues dueling in velvet wet caresses. At some point Silmeria's fangs had gone to a more manageable length, but still Brahms had to be careful not to cut his tongue on her teeth. If she had fed already, he wouldn't have exercised such care, knowing to vampires blood only fueled kisses to new heights of ecstasy.

But a part of him still understood it would be wrong to trick her into drinking blood before she was ready. Just as another part of him knew kissing her was wrong. That this whole act was wrong. But Brahms kept begging himself for five more minutes. Just a few more minutes to enjoy what Silmeria was giving him, even as he knew his heart would break once it was over.

It might already be close to breaking now, Brahms well understanding Silmeria didn't really want him. Not when she was in her right mind. It was disheartening to know that the woman that he loved only returned a semblance of those feelings when she was driven to extreme emotions. Driven to the point her real personality shut down, and she became a slave to a vampire's most basic needs.

Amongst those basic needs was the desire to connect with someone, the desire to touch and be loved. The vampire part of Silmeria recognized Brahms the way he had her, recognized and WANTED him. Later, when he was alone, and could think, Brahms would allow that knowledge to feed into his hopes. But for now, he couldn't let desire sweep out of control, even as the kiss turned even more fierce and intense. 

His hands' grip on her arms might be the only thing keeping the desire from escalating things further. Silmeria was making impatient, needy noises, starting an earnest struggle to get free. Heaven and Hel help him if she did, Silmeria already proven to be a pleasing handful as she rubbed her body against his. It sent reaction rocketing to him, his cock beginning to stiffen in his pants.

She brushed purposefully against it, as though knowing that would drive him wild. Even as the fabric tightened and strained over his developing erection, Brahms was moving them both. With that preternatural speed of the vampires, slamming Silmeria's back into a wall.

The kiss broke long enough for Silmeria to gasp, but she didn't look frightened. No, if anything she was excited, eyes showing her feverish delight as her lips formed words. "Need you." She intoned, just before he silenced her with his lips. Perhaps he didn't want words between them, didn't want her speaking promises she would not keep once back to being self aware.

Had five minutes passed? Brahms did not know, and was finding he was uncaring. But he knew he should stop, and wished for all the strength to do just that. It wasn't coming, especially when Silmeria hooked a leg over his hip, her thighs spread so he could fit perfectly between them. There wasn't much barrier between them, her torn skirt little more than silken scraps. 

With a lewd moan, he vigorously rubbed himself against her. It wasn't enough, would never be enough! He needed his pants out of the way, needed to lift aside that scarp of silk skirt and plunged himself inside her. But he couldn't, and he hated the fact that he HAD to stop! Stop before he went as insensible as Silmeria, and did something she would not be able to forgive him for.

How could he stop when Silmeria was kissing him in that hungry, desperate way? With her legs wrapping around him, holding him in the only way she could so as long as Brahms kept her arms pinned. The fact that he could smell her arousal shut things off in his brains, his own instincts demanding he see to his woman's pressing need. A need that superseded the hunger, and would bring them closer than ever together.

But that closeness would be false! An illusion so long a Silmeria wasn't in her right mind. He didn't feel entirely sane himself, still pushing against her, body rubbing in a frenzied motion. Brahms had to stop, and he had to stop right now! Even if the stopping hurt him more than just his heart.

With a tortured moan, he pulled away from her. Or at least as far as he could, considering Silmeria's legs were locked tight around him. Brahms stared at her, seeing her lips all pouty and swollen from the furious way he had kissed her. And when she licked her lips, it nearly enticed him back on her, Brahms doing a full body shudder. Her own eyes blazed, Silmeria hungry for more. She hadn't yet realized he wasn't going to kiss her again, Silmeria breathless with anticipation. 

Brahms wanted to give her that kiss. Almost as much as he wanted her to act this way with her mind clear of the haze that had settled in on it. He wanted the real Silmeria yearning and needy, and not this shell she had become. 

He didn't quite sigh, leaning towards her face once more. She thought he meant to kiss her, but Brahms was simply capturing her attention. Using his shaky control to gain command of her own mind. It wasn't as easy as it should have been, he was too stirred up in arousal and need. He used her eyes as a focal point, staring into the unsettling blue even as his own red blazed brighter.

There was no resistance this time. Silmeria never even suspected what Brahms was attempting. That was good, he might not have been able to use the compulsion if she had fought him. Not with his own mind racing, his thoughts and emotions a turbulent storm. But use it he did, the command to sleep being issued in her mind. Brahms watched as Silmeria gave in, her eye lids fluttering rapidly. Everything about her was going limp, from the legs locked around him, to the arms that he gripped.

By the time she was fully asleep, Brahms was able to disentangle himself from her. But he was badly shaken, holding Silmeria up and trying to get control. The gash on her side had finally stopped bleeding, and it was Brahms who wanted to drop down and run his tongue over that cut. Somehow, just barely, he resisted that impulse. But he badly needed to sink his fangs into something, do something to stop the lusts running through him.

He stepped away from Silmeria. Walked over to one of the once hidden alcoves. There was a still intact stone bench inside it, and he used it now. Brahms pounding a fist on it, blow breaking apart the stone. The impact sent jarring sensation through him, but it barely had an effect on easing his frustrations. 

In the end, Brahms would break every last bench in the room, working out his frustrations in the only way left to him. When he was done, his fist was bleeding, Brahms lifting it up to sample his own blood. His fangs sank into his skin, Brahms growling as he savagely tore at his own hand. It wasn't anywhere as satisfying as the million things he had wanted to do to Silmeria. Do to and with his bride.

He never calmed down completely. But in the end Brahms returned to Silmeria's side. He'd gently lift her up off the floor, cradling her in his arms and against his chest. Silmeria never even stirred, just laying there limp as he carried her out of the room. 

Most of the vampires had fled for the night, surely going off to find a human to feed off of. Brahms knew the feedings would serve two purposes, healing the injured and calming the stirred emotions of many of the vampires. He might even need to feed himself, given the amount of frustration Brahms was currently experiencing. But before he could even consider doing that, he had other things to do. 

Such as dealing with the anger and paranoia of the vampires that remained in the hall. The looks they gave him ranged anywhere from upset to pity, the vampires surely having used their superior hearing to eavesdrop on Brahms and Silmeria. They knew what had happened, and knew he had restrained himself from taking things any further. They might not understand his reasons, but they felt for him all the same.

Or at least some of them did, the others letting anger and fear manifest. Surren was the first to approach him, her dress torn around her middle, a bruise imprinted on her cheek. "Just what kind of monster have you created?!"

"Lady Surren!" Vandimeer stepped away from the wall. "Mind your tongue when talking to   
our King!"

"She is merely asking what we all want to know." It was another male vampire, a noble named Alfredi. He locked eyes with Brahms, but there was no challenge to that gaze. "Lord Brahms...her speed, her strength....it is not normal for a fledgling."

"SHE is not normal for fledgling." Snapped Surren. "She is an abomination! Worse than a revenant for her mind is conscious to make the decisions to attack us all!"

"You go to far Surren." Brahms growled at her.

"Or maybe I go not far enough!" She hissed back. Surren seemed uncaring of her insolent tone, eyes narrowed as she glared at Brahms. "She was a Valkyrie. The natural enemies of the vampires. It's obvious she's carried the hatred of her kind into her transformation. A hatred that will do nothing, stop at nothing to destroy any and all vampires she comes across!"

"She is a danger to us!" Risana added her voice to the argument. Brahms noted she had somehow managed to come away from the fight unscathed. "One we cannot allow..." But the red head wasn't brave enough to say what she felt should be done to stop Silmeria's threat. None of them were, not even Surren whose anger boiled, hatred in her eyes as she looked a Silmeria.

"Silmeria needs time." Brahms began. "Time to distance herself from her old way of life, the thoughts and hatreds of the Valkyrie. We will give her that time."

"She has proven she doesn't deserve that time! Doesn't deserve anything from us!" Surren cried out.

"I will not turn my back on her!"

"But you would turn your back on your people?!" demanded Surren. "You would choose her over us?!"

"I am not doing any such thing!" Brahms snarled. "I am only giving her the chance...the same chance I gave all of you. Or have you forgotten what it was like to be a fledgling?" He let his gaze go from person to person, seeing how each vampire lowered their eyes as though ashamed. "There was a time when you all were out of control. And a time when some of you didn't accept the gift that had been given to you. Surren, you yourself hated what you had become. It was years before you stopped looking at life as a vampire like it was a curse."

"Do not think to compare me to her!" Surren protested with a hiss. "It's not the same...it will never be the same!"

"I think perhaps you dislike Silmeria because she reminds you too much of how you once were!" Brahms retorted. Surren's hands clenched into fists, and Brahms knew if he had been anyone else save for her King, she would have attacked him then.

"I will keep a closer watch on Silmeria." He continued out loud. "This will not happen again."

"Can you really promise that?" Risana asked as Surren turned her back with a huffing sound. "She is strong...she could be a danger even to you."

"No one is stronger than Lord Brahms!" protested Vandimeer.

"There are other ways she could destroy him." Alfredi said. "It would be better if you abandoned this insane idea to make her our Queen." 

"You do not dictate to me who will share my throne!" Brahms told him. 

"We do not dictate to you at all." Pointed out Alfredi. "But, not all will be happy. Especially not after tonight. You may find yourself with more problems than an out of control fledgling before this is through."

"Is that a threat?" It was Gideon who spoke, the vampire having stayed hidden in the shadows all this time.

"No, not a threat. Just a fact." Alfredi had turned to look at the other vampire. "It is no secret that there has been unrest since our Lord has shown interest in making the Valkyrie his..."

"All the same, I will be personally investigating any and all who so much as grumble about our Lord and his bride." Gideon told him, a tight half smile on his face. "Nothing personal of course."

"Of course." Acknowledged Alfredi with his own half smile. "You must do what you must to keep the king safe."

"And the Queen." Brahms reminded them of his presence. "Gideon, Vandimeer, with me." Without further pause to hear if Surren and the others had any other complaints to voice, Brahms was moving. Walking past them with the confidence born of his strength and age. They would not attempt a direct attack on him, they were simply too spineless and cowardly to try.

But it was as Alfredi said. There was unrest, certain unhappy but powerful individuals in his kingdom. Individuals who wouldn't hesitate to use Silmeria's bad behavior tonight against them both. The eyes of the vampires would be watching, more closely than ever. Waiting with bated breath for Silmeria to commit more blunders. Waiting and hoping she'd drag Brahms down with her, the other vampires not caring what their King meant to them.

It was a trouble he did not need, but one he had all the same. Brahms had been fortunate that so far it had not escalated beyond complaints, but knew the status quo could not be maintained forever. He'd have to do more to retain his crown, in addition to fighting the war against Odin. The war for the vampire's very survival. There was too much at stake, too much to risk. Now was not the time to deal with his bride, and yet fate had left him no other choice. Brahms had had to capture her the minute the opportunity afforded it, even if it mean Silmeria would leave him distracted at the worse time possible.

"He's right about one thing." Vandimeer broke the silence Brahms had been maintaining. "Your enemies won't hesitate to use tonight against you."

"They'll have more than just tonight to complain about." Gideon said, drawing Vandimeer's attention to him. "The Valkyrie are coming."

Vandimeer's eyes widened. "Is that what you called Lord Brahms away to talk about?"

"Yes. The Valkyrie have appeared in Midgard. Far more than is required for a bridal escort. It is a hunting party, and there is little doubt what their quarry is this deep into Midgard." Gideon sighed. "A fight is coming....one that will take place on our very island."

"Can we not delay them somehow?" Vanidmeer wanted to know.

"We could try..." Gideon did a sidelong glance at Brahms. "But..."

"Let them come." Brahms grumbled. "They need to see what she has become, who she belongs to now. Or else they will never accept it. Never stop pestering us."

"You invite death to our island." Cautioned Vandimeer. "This will not make our people happy."

"Do you have so little faith in our people?" demanded Brahms. "In their ability to fight off the Valkyrie who come here?"

"No...I am sure most will handle the Valkyrie just fine." Vandimeer assured him. "They just won't be happy about having to fight. You know many of the vampires here are ones who have earned a break from fighting in the war."

"They grow soft the longer they sheathe their claws." Gideon sounded disgusted. "Perhaps if they were occupied with fighting, they wouldn't have time to plot against our King."

"Perhaps." Allowed Vandimeer. "The endlessness of eternity does breed for boredom, and the creativity needed to alleviate it..."

"Give some people too much time to think, and they will lead themselves to trouble." Countered Gideon.

"What happened in the ball room?" Brahms put an end to such talk, wanting, NEEDING to know exactly what had happened with Silmeria and the other vampires. "What caused my bride to lose control?" He hesitated, a spark of real fear in him. "It was not the need to feed that drove her to cause such a scene was it?"

"It was Surren." Vandimeer sighed. "She is as much at fault as Silmeria for what happened." Brahms thought it telling that Vanidmeer didn't try to alleviate blame from Silmeria entirely. "The two dislike each other immensely. They spent much of the time before the fight sniping insults at each other, at the vampires, even at the Valkyries." Vandimeer did not avoid Brahms' piercing gaze. "Your bride is finding it difficult what has happened to her, and makes no attempt to disguise her contempt for we vampires."

"It's something Surren and the others will play on." Gideon cautioned. "Especially if Silmeria is so quick to lose her temper."

"She is irritable from her self imposed starvation." Brahms reminded them. "Anyone can see she hasn't fed."

"That will not excuse her forever." Gideon told him. "Your people will demand why you haven't forced her to feed...that will work against you, the people fearing you will allow a revenant with Silmeria's surprising skill and powers to be created."

"That is not what I intend to do." Brahms protested with a grumble. "Silmeria WILL feed. One way or another." He just hoped it would be of her own choosing, and not a desperate last minute compulsion on his part. 

"Surren was quick to further incite Silmeria's rage." Continued Vandimeer after a moment's pause. "It was as though she knew just how far to push her, making a low comment about Silmeria's sister. Even before that, Surren and Risana were talking, belittling your bride, and making bold statements about the dangers she poises to us all." Vandimeer lowered his eyes. "Surren's talk was near traitorous, the lady stopping just short of suggesting Silmeria be killed."

Brahms growled at that, his grip on Silmeria tightening in instinctive reaction. "She goes too far."

"Yes, she does." Agreed Gideon. "What else did she say?"

"She called into doubt Brahms' judgment, his ability to think because of Silmeria. She even made claims that the former Valkyrie had somehow bewitched our King. She stirred not only Silmeria's anger, but the paranoia of the crowd."

"Surren is being far too bold for my liking." Brahms grumbled.

"For mine as well." Gideon agreed. "The question is whether Surren is really just that stupid, or if she speaks with a purpose."

"You think she might be allied with those who would work against our King?" Vandimeer seemed shocked.

"It couldn't hurt to investigate her more closely." Retorted Gideon.

"Do it." Brahms commanded. "I need to know where her loyalty lays."

"It shall be done." Gideon bowed. "If I may make a suggestion?" Brahms nodded a yes. "Send the lady away from the castle. Some time on the front lines might give Surren time to repent what she has done. And even if she doesn't, she will be away from the castle, away from causing trouble with your bride."

"A sound idea." Brahms nodded in approval. They had been walking as they talked, heading to Brahms bedroom which served as a temporary prison for Silmeria. "I need you to get everyone prepared for the fight that is coming to the island. They need to know everyone will be expected to participate." He had already gone over much of his ideas and strategies with Gideon, the two planning much in the way of defense and offense.

He had also gotten confirmation that at least one of Silmeria's sisters was amidst the party of Valkyrie and einherjar. The black haired one, the one he knew only by her ruthless reputation. The Valkyrie Hrist was coming for her sister, coming to dispense death to her and anyone else who got in her way. Brahms would not allow her to succeed, even if he had to kill Hrist to stop her. But Brahms hoped he wouldn't have to go that far, if only to keep Silmeria from hating him further.

Vandimeer and Gideon bowed as Brahms approached the door that led into the bedroom. By the time he had it unlocked, the two men had already vanished, hurrying off to do Brahms' bidding. Brahms had things to do as well, his most important of all was seeing to the girl in his arms. He would carry Silmeria over to the bed, and tend to the worst of her wounds. She would remain asleep during all this, the compulsion he had used on her relaxing Silmeria into a deep sleep. The sleep was almost as important as feeding, helping to settle her emotions and her mind. In just a few short hours, Silmeria would be back to normal. Or as normal as she could be, given how hungry she would be.

Feeding would be the only thing to get her completely under control. Her mood would remain hostile otherwise, Silmeria angry and snapping at everything. Brahms didn't look forward to when she awakened, sure she would remember what she had done, and be mortified. That embarrassment would only make Silmeria defensive, the girl sure to blame Brahms for everything that happened.

Brahms sighed, as he tied a cloth bandage around her leg's middle. There would be a reckoning between them, Brahms ready to call upon his early anger in order to chastise Silmeria for her behavior inside the ball room. He understood now it wasn't entirely Silmeria's fault, but she had still done damning actions. And even pleasing ones, Brahms face growing warm as he remembered the way she had kissed and moved against him.

With a snort and a shake of his head, Brahms stood. He didn't even trust himself to touch Silmeria in the moment. Not with the memories of that wild vampiress who hadn't fought the attraction between them heavy in his thoughts. Instead he would walk away, leave the room and lock the door. He was back to shaking, the force of his stirred emotions powerful. There was only one way available to Brahms to calm down, and he would take it now, heading off to the level of the castle where the humans who donated blood made their home.

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To be Continued....


	16. Sixteen

He never was able to catch up to Lenneth and her steed. Obsidian was simply too fast, holding boundless energy after months of being cooped up inside the stables. Every step seemed to increase the stallion's speed, Obsidian seeming to race the very wind itself. Lenneth had been a blue and black blur atop the horse's back, her hair streaming out behind her. She had shown not one ounce of fear, her voice crying out as she goaded the stallion on to even faster speeds.

Lezard had gamely tried to catch them, working his poor horse hard. But the dappled stallion had no fitting motivation, no reason to go as fast as Obsidian and Lenneth. It was content to trot along at a much more sedate pace, leaving Lezard to seethe in impatience. And fear, Lezard's breath catching when Obsidian had taken a high jump over a fence.

It was difficult to watch Lenneth ride. Lezard conceded it would have been difficult no matter the horse, but it was especially so, so long as she rode such a wild and dangerously unpredictable steed like Obsidian. And all because Lezard was all too aware that the Goddess no longer had the protection of her divinity. She was mortal now, and one wrong move on the horse's part, could either end Lenneth's life, or severely cripple her.

His heart was in his throat, Lezard fearing for her. He thought if they survived this ride, a stern talking to would be in order. Lezard wondered if he could even hope to get away with forbidding Lenneth from ever riding again. But he acknowledged the Valkyrie might be as wild and unpredictable as Obsidian, and just as uncontrollable. His hands clenched on the reins of his horse, the stallion whinnying a protest. Already he was tired of the chase, wanting to return to the stables.

Lezard smoothed a hand on the side of the stallions' neck, trying to offer him reassurance that the ride would soon be over with. But he had no way to communicate that desire to Lenneth, the former Goddess seeming content to ride away the morning. He wouldn't abandon her, no matter how far ahead she got, Lezard following in her dust trail.

He would ALWAYS follow her. No matter where the trail led. Lezard had known himself lost to the Valkyrie from the first instant he had seen her face. There was just something about her that had captivated him, striking a devastating blow to his heart. Lezard had meant it when he told Lenneth he wasn't a romantic. He didn't believe in love at first sight. And yet with Lenneth, it had been very much like love, Lezard wanting strongly from that instant on.

It was a want that led him to betray a great many people, most notably his own Goddess, the Queen Hel. He should be more frightened of what he was doing, but Lezard found the fear couldn't compare to the fear generated by Lenneth's near careless ride a top of Obsidian. And all because he was conscious that it was his fault that Lenneth was now vulnerable. His fault she could be injured, fall sick, or even die.

Lezard even knew that Lenneth could be tortured, by He's own hand if the Goddess was to discover his betrayal. That knowledge made him sick, Lezard striving to keep both Odin and Hel happy as he walked a fine line between them. Both were vengeful deities, though Odin liked to project an outward appearance of being a kind and favorable God to follow.

Certainly that deception had won Odin many followers. More than Hel could ever hope to gain on her own. Not that the Goddess of Nifleheim wasn't always keeping her eyes and ears open for the chance to steal worshippers' from Odin. She was succeeding too, with her seductions and promises, and even her killings. Those she couldn't manipulate in life, she easily took care of in death.

Lezard had not been lying when he had revealed to Odin the depths of Hel's depravity. How she was actively working to steal the warriors that should have ascended to the heavens. Her theft manifested in many forms, a plague here, a killing there. How many had died? How many deaths had occurred that were not noble enough for the souls to ascend to Asgard? He did not know the actual numbers, but Hel's armies were increasing by the day. Gaining her the warriors that should have become the Valkyrie's einherjar.

Odin was a fool. That was Lezard's private thought. By the God's own decree, he had barred many from the heavens. Death by sickness, by old age, by murder. All of it preventing a soul from attaining the warrior's paradise. Even those capable of fighting, if they died anywhere save for the midst of battle, they too were consigned to the underworld instead. It was a loophole Hel had found intriguing. A loophole she had capitalized on.

Odin was outraged by the knowledge. And yet knew not how to avert the catastrophe Hel was causing. Nifleheim's Goddess had been sly, beginning her theft slowly. But as time passed, the trickle of deaths began to flow faster, until a veritable flood of new souls arrived in the underworld. There would be a reckoning one day, either through Hel's design, or Odin's. 

Asgard couldn't afford to be distracted by two wars. Hel might very well get the victory she so craved. It was up to Lezard to help Odin, to see that Asgard remained free of the Goddess' grasp. Lezard hoped he was up to the task, though right now he had his doubts. Just as he doubted his ability to win over Lenneth. Even with the love enchantment firmly in place, Lenneth was proving difficult.

Lezard sighed, wondering if he would have even had a chance without Odin's interference. Lenneth seemed so determined not to give any ground to him, fighting every gesture, every attempt he made to bring them closer together. The distance between them was huge, comparable to the distance between them now as they rode. They might never bridge the gap between them, Lenneth's heart might always remain out of reach of him.

He didn't know why that thought pained him. Why any of this should bother him. Lezard felt he should be satisfied with what he had, with the knowledge that once married, Lenneth wouldn't be able to deny him. At least where their bodies were concerned. But damn it, he wanted more. He wanted her to love him, wanted to savor the smiles she might give him. Wanted to share private moments of true laughter between them.

He stifled a curse then, Lezard thinking his mind must be truly addled then. Since when had he ever wanted such a connection with a woman? Never. But then never had Lezard encountered a woman quite like Lenneth. He was close to becoming besotted with her, might already be sick with wanting her. How much worse would this pain in his heart become as the days stretched onwards, his love/lust unrequited?

Just the fact that he could even think of the word love with a woman and not scoff in disgust was troubling. But he was already so close to falling into it, Lezard knowing to love Lenneth would be easy. She was as he had said. Beautiful, intelligent, talented. Even the way she had fought on the plains of Idavoll, there had been elegant grace to her actions.

She enchanted him. Even more thoroughly than Odin's spell had tried to enchant Lenneth. Even as Lezard feared for her well being, he couldn't stop admiring the way she handled Obsidian. It wouldn't stop him from chastising her about his fears, Lezard meaning to impress upon her the dangers of what she had done this day. 

A sudden turn, and Lenneth was riding towards him. Her blue eyes were lively, full of excitement from the ride. Obsidian's eyes were the same, the stallion looking happier than Lezard could ever remember seeing him.

"Shall we return to the castle?" Lenneth asked in a breathy tone of voice. It did things to him to hear her speak like that, Lezard trying to remember he was angry. 

"Yes. If we delay any longer, we shall miss breakfast completely."

"Then let us hurry!" Before Lezard could demand Lenneth slow down, she was clicking her heels. Obsidian let out a wild sound, the horse taking off at a brisk pace once more. Lezard swore a vicious curse under his breath, grappling with his own horse's reins. The dappled stallion let out a protesting whinny, but picked up speed when it realized they were heading back to the castle's stables.

And still Lenneth and Obsidian beat them there. By the time Lezard's horse trotted into the stable's area, Lenneth was already sliding off the back of Obsidian. The horse was breathing heavy, flesh lathered with sweat from the hard ride he had given. Lezard's stallion was no better off, the horse eagerly going over to the post. The dappled horse would make a whinny of sound, impatient for Lezard to get off his back.

Lenneth had tied Obsidian to the post, and was using a brush to go over his furred body. Her back was to Lezard, her attention seeming solely for the horse. She seemed unprepared for Lezard's approach, the mage unable to resist the impulse to put his arms around her.

"Lezard!" Lenneth gasped, the brush dropping from her hands. Obsidian snorted in disapproval, fidgeting restlessly in place. "Wh...what are you doing?!"

He didn't speak for one moment, just holding her against him as he buried his face into the back of her hair. Lezard might even be trembling, all from worry over her actions with the horse. He could feel Lenneth's confusion, as well as her unease. The woman didn't know what to make of this unguarded moment of his. 

"Don't ever do that again." Lezard finally said, his voice thick with choking emotion. "Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"Scare you?" The surprise registered in her voice, Lenneth holding herself still in his needy embrace. "I didn't think you were that easy to scare."

"Don't make light. Not about this." He said fiercely. He relaxed his grip, allowing Lenneth to turn to face him. Her hair was disheveled, curled strands having escaped her braid. He wanted to touch her hair, to tenderly smooth back each of the loose strands. But he couldn't afford to be soft in the moment, needing his upset to make her understand the danger she had put herself in. "Lenneth, you are mortal now. You can't afford to take such chances..."

"Obsidian wouldn't have hurt me." She began to protest. He let out a ragged breath, shaking his head no.

"He might not have meant to, but there was still the chance of you falling! Or the horse misstepping! Gods, when I think of what could have happened, you thrown from Obsidian's back, or crushed under his weight..." Lezard wanted to hug her again, his shaking increasing as he stared into her eyes. "Lenneth, you must promise me. From now on, you will ride at a more slow and sedate pace."

Lenneth looked like she wanted to argue. But she didn't speak a response immediately, instead looking him over. He didn't know if she understood the concern in his eyes, or what Lenneth thought of the fear he was trying to hide. But after a moment, the Goddess nodded. "All right. I understand."

"You need to do more than understand!" Lezard snapped in a tone that was harsher than he had ever intended to use with Lenneth. "You need to promise me!"

"Very well. I promise I will take care from now on when I ride."

He didn't relax, Lezard thinking it might be better to forbid her from riding ever again. But he also didn't want to take away Lenneth's freedom. "Thank you." He said in relief, expelling a slow breath. It stirred the loose hair around her face, Lezard fighting the impulse to hug her close to him again. He instinctively knew she wouldn't welcome another unasked for embrace, and yet he wanted to do it all the same.

It wasn't just the hug he wanted. Lezard wanted to touch more than her arms, wanting to lay fingers on her face. To caress her cheeks and stroke her lips, memorizing the contours of her face with his fingertips. It was difficult to pull back. He didn't quite succeed in resisting all his impulses. Lezard would actually reach towards Lenneth's hair, allowing a long, loose strand to curl around his fingers.

She immediately froze at that, staring at him wide eyed. Lenneth's expression was unreadable as Lezard tucked the hair over her right ear. She didn't immediately try to stop him, Lenient keeping her eyes locked with Lezard's. He tried to fathom what she was feeling in response to the touch on her hair, but really stood not a chance of understanding the inner mysteries of the Goddess.

"We..." A hesitation, Lenneth licking her lips nervously. How Lezard wanted to moan in response to that sensual sight. But he was aware such a reaction would only serve to frighten Lenneth. "We should probably go inside."

"Inside?" Lezard felt he could remain forever in this moment. Just so long as he had Lenneth pressed against him, trapped between his body and that of Obsidian's.

"Yes, inside." Repeated Lenneth. "We don't want to miss breakfast...."

"Breakfast can wait...." He wanted to kiss her, and even found himself leaning into her. Her eyes seemed to widen in response, and then Lenneth was abruptly turning her face to one side.

"We have company."

Disappointment slammed into him, Lezard slow to realize she was right. He had failed to notice the approach of the stable hands, the teenage boys trying not to laugh as they openly stared at the Lord of the castle with his betrothed. Lezard wasn't surprised they had been able to sneak up on him. After all his awareness had been taken completely with Lenneth.

Turning to look at the stable hands, Lezard stepped away from Lenneth. "See to the horses." He told the boys. "They have been worked hard this morning. I think an extra treat is in order, to thank them for the ride they have given us."

"Yes master." One of the boys acknowledge, approaching the horse Lezard had ridden. Obsidian began to kick up a fuss when the second boy tried to touch him. Lenneth immediately turned to the stallion, her touch seeming to calm the beast.

"Easy there." She murmured soothingly to the horse. "He's not going to ride you. He's only going to cool you down, and get you out of that uncomfortable bridle. Maybe even give you some apples." The horses' ears seemed to twitch, as though he had recognized the word apples. "Behave." Lenneth urged one last time, giving the horse one last stroke of his mane.

Obsidian made a disgruntled sound, but held himself still for the stable hand's touch. The boy was looking at Lenneth with awe in his eyes. Lezard had no doubt word would spread how the Valkyrie had tamed the most wildest of steeds in his stable. 

Lezard wished that calming influenced could extend to himself. But his blood was boiling, stirred up with emotion and desire for the Goddess. He couldn't help but curse the stable hands' untimely arrival, Lezard wondering just what would have happened if he had managed to kiss Lenneth moments earlier. Would she have melted in his arms? Or would the encounter have ended with a slap?

Probably neither, Lezard recalling how Lenneth insisted she would not dishonor her King. That meant she would have held still for Lezard's attentions, even if every fiber of her being protested the kiss. But Lezard didn't want her feigning affection, didn't want her viewing Lezard's kiss as nothing more than something she must endure, something that was her duty.

He was a long way from making an emotional impact on Lenneth's heart. It was only the second day since she had been handed over to Lezard's keep, but the battle made him impatient for her. It also made him aware of time, the seconds ticking away, bringing them closer to the day when they would be married. Did he have enough time to win her over? Or would the wedding come and go, binding them in marriage but keeping them apart from each other's bed?

"Lezard?" Lenneth's voice drew him out of his thoughts, the mage glancing at her. He realized he had just been standing there, staring at her as she worked to calm the stallion. 

"It's nothing." He said, longing to take hold of her hand. Even that little a touch would quicken his pulse, Lezard eager for contact with his betrothed. "Let us not delay any longer. Else our breakfast will turn cold."

"Yes." She moved to follow him, Lezard slowing so Lenneth fell into step besides him. He tried not to look at her, Lezard trying to regain his composure. But it was difficult with Lenneth so near, the side of her arm brushing against his as they walked.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lezard inquired. "Mystina and her group will most likely still be in the dining room...."

"I am not scared of them." Lenneth lifted her chin, determination flashing in her eyes. There was probably little she was scared of, Lezard realized. She still retained the fearlessness of her immortality, bold and ready to face challenges head on. 

"I wasn't accusing you of being scared." Lezard quickly assured her. 

"Then what were you doing?" She demanded.

"Just preparing you for a situation that holds the potential to be unpleasant." He explained. "You've stirred Mystina's dislike..."

"You think she will say something to me?" Lenneth asked.

"I would be more surprised if she didn't." Lezard admitted. They had entered the castle now. "Mystina can be spiteful thing once her displeasure is earned."

"I can give as good as I get." Lenneth retorted. 

"I won't doubt you on that." Lezard chuckled slightly. "But I wonder how familiar you are with the weapons Mystina chooses to employ. It won't be sword against sword, but something far more insidious."

"Words can never cut as deep as a true weapon can."

"I wonder about that." Lezard murmured, holding open the door to the castle's dining room. Lenneth gave him a quizzical look, but there was no time to explain. Not with the remaining occupants turning to look at them. When they saw it was the lord of the castle, they began to rise from their seats, ready to pay respects to Lezard and his betrothed.

Just as Lezard had predicted, Mystina and her group was still present at the table. They were surely on their third or fourth helping of breakfast, and it was only the fact that they were sorceresses that kept them from gaining weight from their over eating. Magic was known for burning up the calories at an alarming rate, the mages having to constantly replenish their energies by enjoying large meals.

Offering Lenneth his arm, Lezard would usher her along the long length of the table. Not all the nobles were present. With Mystina's entourage, there was about seventeen people at all seated at the master's table. Lezard would lead Lenneth to the head of the table, and guide her to seat down to the right of him. Servants had appeared, quick to pile plates full of the morning's feast.

The plates were placed in front of them, the nobles waiting for their Lord to begin to eat before they retook their seats. Conversation was not immediate, the curious eyes of the nobles drifting towards Lenneth. They weren't trying to be rude, they just couldn't hide their fascination with the one time Goddess.

Mystina sat back in her seat, her gaze almost insolent as she stared at Lenneth. She was the only one who did not attempt to avert their eyes when the Goddess look towards her. Instead Mystina raised her goblet, mock saluting Lenneth with it. Lenneth frowned in response, not understanding what Mystian was doing.

"Lezard, Lenneth." Mystina spoke. "So good of you to join us this morning."

"Yes." One of the nobles nodded his agreement. "The day is a bit brighter now that you are here." 

"The day has been bright all morning." Lenneth said, confused. "I don't think it has anything to do with Lezard or my presence here..."

"It is just a saying we have." The noble was quick to explain. "Said when we are glad for the company we keep."

"Oh. I hadn't realized...."

"I bet there's a lot you don't know." Mystina smirked, and hardly looked repentant when Lezard growled her name. "I don't think Lezard has been taking the time to properly introduce you to mortal life."

"Lezard is Lord of this castle, and as such has duties that extend beyond my education." Lenneth said stiffly.

"And yet he took time this morning to go riding with you." Mystina noted.

"I didn't realize you had nothing better to do than go spying on us." Lezard kept his tone pleasant, though his look was not. "I'll be sure to remedy that shortly."

"Oh goodness no! I merely inquired as to why you were late to this morning's meal. There was no spying involved." Mystina told him.

The tension between them was obvious, the nobles shifting, uneasy. One of them turned to Lenneth, his eyes briefly touching on her mussed hair. "Do you enjoy riding Goddess?"

"I am Goddess no more." Lenneth reminded him. His face went pale, the man coughing.

"Er yes...pardon my slip."

"But yes. I did enjoy riding Obsidian." Lenneth continued, seeming oblivious to the shock that went through the crowd at the horse's name. "Flenceburg is a lovely city." Lenneth added, using a knife to peel a golden colored pear. "You must be very proud to make it your home." 

"It's your home too." Lezard reminded her. Something sad flickered in her eyes, Lenneth bowing her head in acknowledgment.

"That it is." She said softly, biting into the pear.

"Perhaps you'll feel more at ease after the wedding." It was a woman, one of the rare females who wasn't part of Mystina's entourage. She smiled at Lenneth, surely meaning no harm in what she said. "Brides are often a bundle of nerves that calm down once married. You'll be able to take stock of your situation, and worry less once the festivities are over with."

"Festivities?"

"There will be a grand celebration." Lezard explained. "Many will come to wish us well."

"It will be a party." Mystina added. "Much drinking and carousing."

Lezard wondered if Lenneth had ever been to a party, if she had ever celebrated anything besides a victory on the battlefield. 

"The entire city will celebrate." Continued Mystina. "After all, it's not often our Lord marries."

"Not often?" A man laughed. "Try never!" He grinned at Lezard. "Always thought you would die a bachelor."

"I was just waiting for the right woman to come along." Lezard answered, making light of his words. He did a side long glance at Lenneth, but she didn't look flattered.

"When will the wedding take place?" Lenneth asked abruptly.

"That's what we all want to know!" Another man chuckled. "I don't understand what you're waiting for Lezard. If it was me, I'd marry her quick in case Odin changes his mind and takes her back to Asgard."

"There's still some preparations that need to be completed." Lezard took a drink from his goblet. "Lenneth, I was hoping after breakfast you could spare a moment to see the seamstress. She has been inquiring after your measurements, wanting your gown to be perfect for the ceremony."

"All right." Agreed Lenneth. 

"Why don't I accompany you?" suggested Mystina. "I can fill you in on what is expected of the bride."

"Mystina!" Lezard set down his cup, glowering at the sorceress. "I will not have you telling Lenneth stories!"

"You have a dirty mind if you chose to interpret my words that way!" Mystina snapped. "I merely meant to prepare her for the ceremony, and the festivities that followed. NOT the wedding night." A smirk then, the blonde far too bold for Lezard's liking. "I'll leave that in your capable hands." She stressed the word capable, but Lenneth didn't rise to the bait. Nor did she look eager at the thought of going anywhere with Mystina. 

Mystina looked close to pouting that she didn't get the anticipated response from Lenneth. Lezard held back a sigh, wondering just what had been said between Lenneth and Mystina to have the sorceress be so antagonistic towards the former Goddess. But it was best to inquire in private, he decided as Lezard took a taste of the flavorful gruel in his bowl.

The talk would continue, other details about the upcoming wedding being discussed. Lenneth did not participate much in the conversation. Not unless asked a direct question. Anyone could see she wasn't that interested in this discussion, the Goddess hardly one to care about what sort of colors and fabric would be used for the napkins and table cloths.

It was typically decisions left up to the woman. That included planning the meals that would be served at the wedding feast. Such talk only served to overwhelm Lenneth, the Valkyrie looking like she couldn't wait to escape from the dining room. She wouldn't get her chance any time soon, the group at the table loathe to give her up now that they had her attention.

Lezard was in the midst of thinking up an excuse to spirit Lenneth away, when a servant hurried into the room. He was ignored by nearly all at the table. Only Lenneth stiffened besides Lezard, instantly alert as she watched the servant hurry to his side.

"Yes, what is it?" Lezard demanded, gesturing impatiently. 

"Forgive the intrusion. But the Goddess Queen is demanding your presence." 

"Queen Hel?" Lenneth asked, her voice a barely controlled hiss. She wasn't the only one who was surprised, conversation stopping at the table.

"She doesn't often contact you this early in the day." Mystina's smile was bright and cheery, but her eyes held malice to them. 

"All the more reason I must go to her." Lezard grumbled. He turned to Lenneth, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "This shouldn't take long. Will you be all right here on your own."

"I can manage." Lenneth told him, her tone soft. Her displeasure was apparent, she didn't like that he left her to go to Hel. "You mustn't keep your Queen waiting."

He really couldn't but he was loathe to leave Lenneth. Biting back a curse, and not caring that everyone stared at them, Lezard laid a hand on top of Lenneth's. "Remain here. I'll return to you promptly."

She merely bowed her head in agreement. Lezard wanted to go on touching her, to linger his hand on top of hers. Somehow he forced himself to move, to walk past the smirking Mystina, and out of the room. The servant that had delivered Hel's message went to follow him, trailing behind Lezard by several steps. 

"What is our Queen's mood?" Lezard demanded of the servant.

"It's not good." The man answered back. "She is angry and seems impatient. She's already trashed much of the room..."

Lezard fought his displeasure, realizing Hel's latest visit would prove costly to him. "All right. You may go now." He dismissed the servant, and took to the stairs. But he did not head to the rooms that made up the sleeping quarters of many of the nobles. Instead he turned to the left, walking past the large crest that bore Hel's emblem. The corridors would stretch out before him, ultimately leading to his private rooms. That included his bedroom and his workshop, Lezard inwardly cringing at the thought of the damage Hel could be doing to his experiments.

A loud clatter was heard, something smashing apart either against the wall or on the floor. Lezard broke into a hurried run, not caring if it was undignified to arrive before the Queen breathless. Something else shattered, and Lezard threw open the door to the workshop, not bothering to knock. An urn flew towards his head, Lezard just managing to duck in time.

The urn was not so delicate as to break, being made of a heavy metal. But it would have hurt if it had struck him, might have even rendered him unconscious. Lezard noted with some displeasure just how foul a mood the Goddess was in, to so maliciously strike out against him. 

Something else broke, Lezard straightening from his hunch. He knew Hel had to have noticed his arrival, but the Goddess' malevolent energy was such, that it was crackling about the room, seeking a target. To speak might make him the target, but Lezard knew he had no other choice. He did not want Hel continuing her destruction of his workshop.

"You only do yourself a disservice by throwing this tantrum." Lezard's words, insolent at best, drew the Goddess gaze towards him. Her eyes flashed with malevolent purpose, the color seeming to change depending on her moods. Right now they were a dark, angry jade. He tried not to be affected with fear, Lezard allowing the door to close, sealing him into the room with Nifleheim's Queen.

"This behavior is not fitting of a Queen." Continued Lezard, walking towards one of his ruined experiments. He pretended to be assessing how much damage she had done to the body, but his awareness was focused completely on the Goddess. Wary should she choose to lash out one last time. "Or a Goddess."

"You presume to tell me how I should and should not act?!" Hel demanded, her voice like thunder though it would never be heard outside of this room's walls. He nodded slightly to her question, hands touching the body, feeling the bones that had broken during Hel's assault. "Then let us talk about your behavior. It is rude to keep a Queen waiting."

"Perhaps it is." Acknowledged Lezard. "But it was not done out of malice or spite. It was you who chose to make this unexpected call...I hurried as fast as I could to come to you, once aware of your arrival."

"It is not just this visit that I allude to." Hel shifted, drawing Lezard's wary glance towards her. She was an odd mix of beauty and ugliness, one half of her face scarred. Lezard sometimes wondered just what could have been responsible for the Goddess' disfigurement, knowing the divine could heal just about any wound. But he would never dare ask, well aware of Hel's vanity and how she reacted to any who might dare suggest she was less than perfect.

The other side of her face was smooth, beautiful even. It was a direct contrast to the scarred ruin of her right half, presenting a fascinating mix of deformed perfection. She never tried to hide her scarred side, Hel keeping her shoulder length hair swept back with a diadem. Diamonds glinted at the center of the diadem, with a hint of blood red in their cracks. 

"You have been lax in your reports about Odin." Hel clarified. "You know I need that information." Her ruby red lips seemed to pout. "Especially if I'm going to make a move against his holdings in Midgard."

"You shouldn't rush, my Queen." Lezard warned. "If you move too soon, you will alert him to the fact the alliance is not sincere on your part. And then where will we be? Hmm? The instant you attack, is the instant Odin closes up." He let go of the body, turning to face her more fully. 

"You've waited years...longer than I have been alive for this chance. Why rush it now, and risk everything due to impatience?"

Hel appeared to be listening to his words, some of that malevolent energy lessening in intensity. The room no longer felt choked with, Lezard's hair no longer tried to stand on end in response to it. "I will find out all of Odin's secrets, all his defenses and plans. I will give that knowledge to you, and with it you will triumph over him. Asgard will be yours for the taking, the heavens molded to your desires."

She liked that last one, her lips curling into a smile. But Hel's smiles were deceptive, and could hide untold torments and cruelty within them. "You better." Hel told him.

"I will." It was perhaps foolish to interrupt her, but Lezard knew she needed the reassurance. "Who else is in prime position to betray Odin's trust? Who else but I can get you his secrets? He trusts me as the liaison between you two. That trust will be his downfall."

"Do not presume you have Odin's trust." Retorted Hel. "That man has little faith in anyone to keep his council. I dare say even Freya doesn't know all his secrets."

"He cannot be on guard all the time." Lezard told her. "And the Lord of the undead keeps him distracted."

"Brahms makes him desperate." Corrected Hel. "If not for this endless feud, even you would not have been able to sway Odin towards allying with me." It went both ways, Lezard thought. If not for Brahms, Hel might never try to usurp Odin's power. She simply didn't have enough allies and strength to engage Odin's armies otherwise. If Odin's forces became divided, trying to stamp out the threats of both the undead and Nifleheim, then perhaps Hel stood a chance of gaining a foothold into Asgard.

A shift in the air, Lezard scenting the heavy perfumes Hel wore. They could not entirely snuff out the smell of brimstone, the stench of death that clung to her skin. Hel was approaching him, gliding forward as though she floated on a cloud. She might very well be floating, her long green skirts covered her feet from view. Her eyes had changed color, from that dark angry jade to a greenish blue that might almost signal she was happy.

"You've always been a silver tongued charmer." Hel lifted a hand towards him, as though she might caress his cheek. Lezard held himself still for this, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. Her touch would burn if it made contact with his skin. Burn but leave no mark unless she chose otherwise. "That tongue served us both well....I do not know what you said to Odin to get him to agree to this alliance. The heavens know I have tried in the past, countless times with many an emissary. You are the only one of my minions who have succeeded...and you have gone far past my expectations of you." 

That hand of hers didn't lay on his cheek, instead going to caress his hair. It was a fond touch she gave him, but it hurt all the same. "I never dared dream you would charm Odin to the point he would fall over backwards to cater to you." She continued, her voice now a sultry purr. "A Valkyrie for a bride...the first of many I hope."

"I'm sure something can be arranged." Lezard was pleased his voice didn't betray his pain, or that his eyes didn't water with agonized tears fro, her touch. "Odin is eager to prove his willingness to work with you. Eager enough to hand over a few Valkyries, and the children they will birth."

Hel's eyes gleamed with approval. She wanted those children, wanted them for the gifts and abilities they would gain from their mothers' blood. "You never fail me, do you?" Hel asked, eyes searching his face for something she could use. "You may keep me waiting, longer than I can tolerate. But you do get the results I crave."

"That I do." It was a relief when she pulled away, Lezard's scalp sore from where she had caressed.

"Go. Enjoy your Valkyrie bride." Hel told him, her eyes almost seeming to twinkle with amusement. "But do not let her distract you to the point you forget your duty to me."

"I will not." Promised Lezard.

"Call Odin. Work that tongue of yours into gaining me the information I need to be successful against him." Hel urged. "Do not rest until you have all his secrets in your hands...."

"It may take time." Lezard warned. "Odin is not always forthcoming in our talks."

"You will charm him all the same." Ordered Hel coldly. "Or face the repercussions of your failure."

"Of course." He bowed, but never took his eyes off the Goddess' face. "I much prefer to lead your armies than to wallow in the underworld's torture pits."

"Oh how little you think of my affection for you." Hel smirked. "I would never leave my most promising follower to the demons' care." Lezard took no reassurance from her words, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "No, Lezard. If you disappoint me, it will be my hand that deals out your punishment." Her eyes blazed then, like green flames of fire. But she was done speaking, done with this visit. Already her energies gathered around, dark bolts of purple electricity crackling over her form. 

Some of that energy lashed out at random objects in the room. A vase shattered apart, and the broken body splurted viscous fluid from an orifice. The energy grew in strength, until a crackle of lightning sounded. And with that noise, Hel disappeared, leaving only smoke in her place. The smoke was thick and odorous, making Lezard cough and choke in response to it.

He muttered a spell in between fits of coughing. The spell would work to clear the workshop of the smoke. Lezard was left with the mess of Hel's tantrum to clean up, the mage wondering if he could salvage some of the experiments she had destroyed. But before he could begin to attempt a clean up, Lezard knew he would have to get in contact with Odin. The Lord of Asgard needed to know of Hels' impatience, but more importantly, Odin needed to give Lezard some information he could feed Hel. All in order to appease the Goddess, and lead her into thinking Lezard was succeeding in his supposed betrayal of Odin. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued.....


	17. Seventeen

Tension had begun to take root inside Lenneth. It mounted in intensity by the minute, unraveling all the good the morning's ride had done her. She hadn't been entirely relaxed, nor had she been happy. But after spending time on the horse Obsidian's back, for one brief moment Lenneth had felt very much like her old self. She had enjoyed the freedom of the ride, the wind in her hair, the strong horse beneath her. She might not have been riding into battle, but Lenneth had felt the same kind of exhilaration in that moment.

It wasn't dulled by the fact that riding might be one of the only outlets left to her. The only thing that might bear a resemblance to her old life as Valkyrie. She had been free in the moment, uncaring of any duties and obligations she might have had, to Odin and to Asgard.

Of course, reality had come crashing back once she had returned to the stables. Her betrothed had actually put his arms around her, though the embrace hadn't been done with seduction in mind. That was perhaps the only reason Lenneth had kept from overreacting at Lezard's touch. She understood he had been frightened for her, for her safety and well being. Lenneth would even grudgingly accept that she had been taking risks riding Obsidian at such a fast speed. But she didn't understand why Lezard cared so much. 

Lenneth wondered if she was fooling herself. Perhaps Odin's love spell made her misread the situation by the stables. Perhaps Lezard didn't give a damn about Lenneth as a person, and just saw her as a means to an end. The token meant to seal the alliance between the underworld and Asgard. Thinking that way didn't make Lenneth happy. Any happier than when Lezard had excused himself from the dining room.

He hadn't tried to hide where he was going, or to whom Lezard intended to meet with. Lenneth wouldn't have been pleased either way, though her agitation increased to know she was in the same building as the Goddess Hel. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest, Lenneth loathe to idly stand by when Hel was near. Lenneth knew what her own presence here in Flenceburg was supposed to signal, but the Valkyrie maiden was unable to accept it. Nor could she accept that Odin would so foolishly ally with the Goddess of Nifleheim. Anymore than she could accept that Hel had been defanged, becoming friend not foe to the Asgardians.

For all the riding she had done this morning, Lenneth had never forgotten the purpose she had given to herself. The reason she needed to make her life here in Flenceburg have meaning. But searching for proof of Hel's betrayal would be difficult, Lenneth having little leads she could follow, and even less people she could actually trust. She was alone, friendless and without back up in an enemy's domain.

Lenneth didn't even have her King's sanction for what she was attempting to do. She could have sighed then, though Lenneth kept her outward expression even. Certainly she could not betray her true emotions to the people at this table. All of them were loyal to Hel, sworn to do her bidding. Perhaps Lezard's as well, Lenneth sure her behavior and reactions would be reported to the man.

Lenneth knew she had to appear accepting of her fate. To appear as though she was making the needed adjustments to her way of thinking. Nor could she throw herself wholeheartedly into the act, having to straddle a fine line between too much enthusiasm and not enough. It was almost as draining as fighting the love enchantment, Lenneth knowing her talents lay not in the act of deceptions.

Conversation had not stilted with the removal of Lezard from the room. The group at the table continued their talk, gorging themselves on the feast laid out before them. The people gathered here was calm, hardly showing emotion in response to just who had called upon their Lord. Lenneth took it to mean it was a typical occurrence in the house, one she could use to her advantage.

She had to fight not to stand and make excuses. Lenneth knew Lezard had asked her to remain at the table. But the Valkyrie wanted to leave, to sneak after Lezard and spy on his conversation with the Goddess. All in the hopes that Lenneth could learn something useful through her spying.

But it was obvious to Lenneth she wasn't about to get away from the table so easily. Mystina was watching her, her eyes dark with interest. That sorceress' regard served to further spoil Lenneth's mood. She didn't like that Mystina was so interested in her, nor did Lenneth want to tolerate much of Mystina's tongue. She had yet to say anything too offensive, but Lenneth could sense the malicious intent festering inside the woman.

Holding Mystina's gaze, Lenneth reached for her goblet. She refused to cower away from Mystina's blatant stares, Lenneth's own eyes holding a challenge to them. She almost missed the turn in the conversation, one of the nobles whose name she did not yet know asking a question of Lenneth.

Drinking slowly, she gave him time to repeat himself. "How does Flenceburg compare to life in Valhalla?"

"It doesn't." She set down her cup. They had drawn the attention of the others, some frowning in response to the blunt answer she had given. She was slow to explain the reasons behind that answer. "With the undead's constant press against Asgard, we do not have the time to linger between meals. My days are busy, as are my nights. I find in Flenceburg I have had the chance to think about things beyond battle and the tactics needed to stay alive."

"You make it sound as though the Valkyries have a hard life." Pointed out a woman, whose face was just beginning to line with age.

"I did not find it difficult, just different." Lenneth told her. "I enjoyed being a Valkyrie. The sights and sounds of battle, there is no other experience that can compare. Fighting Brahms' undead gave me purpose...I was protecting the realms, helping to make the land just a little safer for the people of the world."

"Noble work." Murmured the woman, and others agreed. 

"Will you find it difficult to make the adjustment from warrior to wife?" Before Lenneth could answer, another was speaking.

"Does she have to give up her sword? Surely she could do both..."

"Come now!" scoffed Mystina. "As if Lezard would ever let her risk herself in that manner! She is his Valkyrie, a prize many covet. He will not allow her to throw her life away no matter what she may desire." Mystina said nothing Lenneth hadn't already expected, but still it was disheartening to hear. But she would not show her upset to them, Lenneth's expression cool and distant.

"I will do as countless Valkyrie before me." Lenneth said out loud. "If it is my husband's wish that I not fight, than I shall heed his desires."

"Well, that's boring." Grumbled Mystina. "I had not realized Valkyries could be so docile." Anger might have flashed in Lenneth's eyes, for suddenly the blonde sorceress was smirking. "Or do you like being the object that cements the alliance between our two kingdoms?"

"You have never faced a Valkyrie in battle, or you would not imply that." Lenneth allowed her teeth to show in her own little smirk. "Of course...if you had faced a Valkyrie in battle, you would not be here now."

"Oh? And just where would I be?" demanded Mystina.

"You'd be dead." Lenneth couldn't help but take pleasure in the way the women next to Mystina seemed to shudder in response. Mystina's smirk had faded, her own eyes flashing with anger.

"You will find I am not easy prey, even for a Goddess to take down."

"I've fought spell slingers before." Lenneth was calm. "They've yet to impress." Another pause, her smirk remaining. "You've yet to impress."

The nobles were looking back and forth between the two women as though this was a spectator's event. No one was trying to interject themselves into the conversation, content to let the two have at each other with their words. Lenneth herself felt a perverse pleasure in bating Mystina, though this battle of words could not compare to the clash of swords.

"It wouldn't be a fair fight." Mystina said in response. "Not now with you a mortal. I could easily overpower you with my spells."

"If anything the fight would be more fair now that I am no longer a Goddess." Lenneth retorted. "I did not lose my swords skills just because the nature of my being has changed. I still possess brains, agility, strength. You would not find me an easy target."

"You are overconfident."

"I have a right to be." Lenneth told her. "You are just a child. Where I have lived for centuries, honing my skills. I have the wisdom and maturity of age, without any of the disadvantages."

Mystina's lips pressed into a tight, thin line. She appeared not to have any rebukes to what Lenneth had said, and yet the sorceress still spoiled for a fight. Lenneth half expecting the woman to challenge her to a duel, so potent was Mystina's displeasure.

Lenneth wasn't the only one to notice the mood coming off of Mystina. In an attempt to diffuse the situation from becoming even more explosive, a question was asked of Lenneth. "You've mentioned centuries. Are you really that old?"

"Yes." A curt reply, Lenneth not taking her off eye Mystina. She didn't trust the woman as far as she could throw her, especially not in this moment.

"I cannot imagine living that long!" exclaimed a woman. "The things you must have seen, the lives you must have lived."

"Lives?" Lenneth frowned. "I had but one life, and that was spent in dedication to my king."

"But surely..." A hesitation. "You did something besides fight?"

Lenneth had to think, to try and remember the quiet moments where she had done something other than fight. Other than sleep and eat quick meals. There wasn't many, but thoughts of her sister Silmeria came to mind. "I enjoyed listening to my sister sing." She said out loud. 

"Somehow I can't imagine Valkyries singing for pleasure."

"We don't. But Silmeria was gifted in that regard, and it gave Lord Odin pleasure to hear her sing during the funerals we held for the fallen." Lenneth explained. It felt life a millennia since she had last heard Silmeria's song, even longer since she had thought of her sister without pain and fear coloring the memories.

"Ah...for the Valkyries who died in battle?" asked one of the men.

"And our einherjar." nodded Lenneth. "Death is an unavoidable part of war, even up in the heavens..."

"And what of the heavens themselves?" Mystina had regained enough of her composure to   
speak. "Surely there must be something to Asgard beyond the fighting..."

"Yes...what is Asgard like? Please, tell us." Begged one of the women sitting near Mystina. "Your descriptions might be the only chance we get to know of true paradise."

Lenneth hesitated. "My descriptions would pale in comparison to the true beauty of the realm." And still they urged her onwards, some openly pleading with Lenneth. It made her ill at ease, Lenneth slow to speak. "I did not spend much times in the lands beyond the plains of Idavoll. The heart of the fighting takes place on those lands, the territory that leads to and surrounds castle Valhalla."

She sighed then. "You would not find the plains a pleasing sight. There is too much war, too much blood shed on that land. The tall, golden stalks of wheat? An effective cover for ghouls and zombies. They are a poison, ravaging the land. The Valkryies and their soldiers work to keep it from spreading, keep them from reaching to other parts of the realm."

"We have managed thus far." Continued Lenneth. "The warrior's paradise is undisturbed." She called to memory the image of that paradise. To the emerald green fields where the retried souls played. "It is a fertile land...beautiful. Green as far as the eye can see, broken up only by crystals. There are dwellings inside the crystal, homes for the souls that have come to rest at long last. The souls of those people lead a carefree life. Loving, and laughing, at peace finally."

She didn't mention how empty the warrior's paradise had become. How Odin had had to call upon the souls there, disturb what should have been their final rest in order to force them back on the battlefield. The war with Brahms was draining Asgard of it's soldiers, einherjar sometimes dying quicker than the mortal wars could produce replacements. Lenneth didn't understand why that was, didn't suspect that there was another reason as to why Asgard was being denied new soldiers.

"The life they lead in paradise...it is often similar to life here on Midgard. But there is no death to be feared, no sickness or old age."

"It sounds wonderful." Sighed one of the nobles, the others voicing their agreement. "A life without stress, a life without pain!"

"Far different from what we can expect in the underworld..." One man muttered darkly.

"Is it really that different?" Lenneth inquired. "I mean, I understand there is rest for those who have earned it." But she also knew there was torment for those who souls had been tainted. Hel was quick to punish those who had sinned in life, and rumors had it that not many souls were granted a final peace, free of the demon's torture pits.

"There exists many different levels to the underworld." Came the answer at last. "The deepest is said to be granted to those who are too pure for the torments our Queen enjoys giving to the damned. But no one among the living has ever been allowed to see that world."

"No one?" Lenneth tried for careful surprise, casually reaching for her goblet once more. "Not even Lezard?"

"Not even he."

"But..." Puzzlement colored her expression. "It is my understanding that he is part of Hel's council."

"That doesn't mean she gives up all her secrets to him!" 

"And yet she relies on him." Mused Lenneth, pausing to take a sip from her cup.

"That she does." Came the agreement. "It was Lezard, under the Queen's orders, that traveled to Asgard. It was Lezard who brokered the deal between Odin and Queen Hel." That was news to Lenneth, the Valkyrie having not realized that Lezard had ever set foot in Asgard.

"Lezard succeeds at the impossible." Mystina spoke now, jealousy in her tone. "It's no wonder Queen Hel cannot do without him."

"Mystina!" One of the nobles protested, a nervous expression on his face. "The Queen is not so dependent that she cannot make a move without a mortal. Even if that mortal is as capable as our Lord."

"Oh? Then why is she here?" demanded Mystina. "Why does she always turn to Lezard when she is in need of something? There are others on her council, even those who are not, who would gladly make themselves of use to her!" She was openly seething now, anger and bitterness competing with the jealousy. "She gives us no chance to prove ourselves worthy, and I am SICK of it!"

Mystina had knocked over her goblet with her angry gesturing, a servant hurrying over to keep the spill from spreading. Silence reigned at the table, none of the people seated there making eye contact with each other. Only Lenneth looked at Mystina, thoughtful as she projected an outward curiosity.

"Just how often does Hel summon Lezard to meet with her?" She tried for an innocent tone, as though she was merely curious about her betrothed's dealings with the Goddess.

"Far too often for my liking." Mystina muttered. One of the women besides the blonde started a nervous giggling. It almost drew Lenneth's attention away from the sorceress. "Lenneth, in time you will find you have a choice."

"A choice?"

"Yes. A choice over whether or not you can accept that fact that you will always be sharing your man with another woman." Mystina said, her expression mean. "Lezard will never, ever turn his back on Queen Hel. Not even for a former Goddess. And when Queen Hel comes calling, you will find Lezard abandoning you to go running to her side." Her eyes were cruel, her smile a mockery of everything good and kind. 

"You make it sound as though...Lezard has feelings for his queen beyond that of mortal with his God." Lenneth noted, feeling dismay twist her heart. Was Lezard as taken with Hel as Mystina was trying to make her believe?

"Oh my, is that what it sounds like?" An unconcerned, airy laugh from Mystina. "No. I would not go so far as to say Lezard loves Hel." A flat expression crossed her face. "Lezard has no room in his heart to love anyone, not even himself."

"But..." Her uncertainty came out before she could stop, Lenneth remembering how in the stables Mystina had told her Lezard wanted her.

"He doesn't need love to desire." Mystina continued. "Lust can fuel a thousand wants, and they will all be meaningless." She didn't say it out loud, but Lenneth understood Mystina meant Lenneth would be meaningless to Lezard as well. 

"That's enough Mystina." snapped one of the nobles, pounding his fist on the table. "You go too far."

"No." Lenneth's voice was soft. "It's fine. I need to hear this." Her heart needed to hear this, as if Mystina's harsh truths could somehow free it of the shackles Odin's enchantment tried to force on her. It would be better if she could free herself of the love spell entirely. Better if she was no longer weak and susceptible to Lezard's smiles. Or his touch and his nearness.

"No, my Lady. Mystina does you and our Lord a disservice." Insisted the man. "She is a bitter shrew, angry that her own skill and power has not been enough to earn Hel's blessings."

"Now who goes too far, Sameer?" Mystina's eyes were flashing, the green so dark and consumed with her anger.

Sameer wasn't cowed by her expression. "You've spoken out of turn. You've tried to upset Lady Lenneth. You've tried to make her doubt Lord Lezard's intentions towards her."

"This is a marriage of convenience!" Mystina snapped, her voice getting louder. "Not a love match. She would be deluding herself to enter into it thinking that!"

"It is not for you to decide if this will or will not be a love match!" Sameer roared over her protests. "Our Lord will hear about what you have done. Pray he will show you more mercy than I would in his place."

Mystina slammed her hands on the table, rising an instant later. "I am not sorry for speaking the truth!" She made an angry huff of sound, spinning away from the table. The ladies of her circle, hurried to follow, calling after her to stop. Mystina didn't cast so much as a backwards glance into the room, nearly knocking over a richly dressed new arrival.

"Lady Lenneth, do not put much stock into what that sharp tongued wench has said." Sameer was trying to be reassuring. "She is bitter, and much of what she has said applies to herself instead of Lord Lezard."

"Sometimes it takes a similar soul to recognize the same in another." Lenneth murmured sadly. Sameer's upset was apparent, his look dismayed. 

"Please...get to know our Lord." He urged her. "Take the time to develop your own opinion   
of him, and not that of Mystina's."

Lenneth couldn't even promise him that much, looking towards the new arrival instead. He was about Lezard's height, with dusky blonde hair and brown eyes. His clothing was rich, intricate designs sewn into the fabric. He wore a sky blue cloak that was open over his front. It held most of the dust from his travels, the man not having bothered to get clean before coming into the room.

"It is a scorcher of a day!" The man said, as a servant hurried to help him with his cloak. "I won't say no to mead to quench the thirst the heat has given me."

"Randolf you rascal!" exclaimed one of the nobles. "Could you not have taken a bath before joining us? You stink of horse and sweat!"

"I was hungry." Randolf retorted, sinking into one of the seats left empty by Mystina's group.

"You're always hungry!" laughed the one woman who remained at the table that wasn't Lenneth. "You'd send a whole kingdom to ruin if we let you feed your appetites unrestrained!" 

This Randolf took it all with good humor, already piling his plate high with food. He didn't even wait for one of the servants to do it for him, the man taking generous, hearty portions of food. Lenneth's own meal was forgotten, her appetite ruined after the words Mystina had spoken.

"Lady Lenneth, this is Sir Randolf." Sameer said, trying to draw Lenneth out of her upset. "He has been gone for little more than two weeks, traveling between Queen Hel's holdings."

Sir Randolf smiled around a mouthful of fried pig. "It is a pleasure to meet you my lady." He swallowed his mouthful, and downed half a goblet of mead. "And where do you hail from, my lady?"

"Lady Lenneth is Lezard's betrothed." Understanding dawned in Randolf's eyes, the man actually pausing to wipe his mouth with a cloth napkin.

"Forgive me...I hadn't realized a Goddess was among us." He was already getting up, intent on taking Lenneth's hand.

"Oh please. I am Goddess no more." She protested as he pressed a kiss over the back of her hand.

"You are still as beautiful as one, and you retain your divine pedigree." He said in answer. Lenneth refused to be flattered, quickly pulling her hand free of his at the first chance she got. 

"What news do you bring us?" Sameer asked, trying to distract Randolf away from Lenneth. The blonde hair man chose to sit down in Lezard's seat, a servant hurrying to bring him his plate.

"Oh many thing, many things." Randolf said, still looking at Lenneth. "Our Lord will be pleased. The tidings from the other kingdoms have been fortuitous." He finally looked away, pausing to take another drink of his mead. "The Valkyrie are hunting."

Lenneth reacted to those words, eyes widening in interest as she looked at Randolf. The others at the table were also stirred, voice murmuring in speculation at the news.

"Hunting what?" asked a noble.

"Couldn't say." Randolf admitted. "But they are out in large numbers. The quarry's big, whatever it is they hunt." He glanced at Lenneth, who hadn't realized she spoke her thoughts out loud.

"Brahms." She had said, voice a low hiss. "They are hunting Brahms"

"The King of the vampires? Would they really dare?" asked Randolf.

"I thought Brahms would be on the battlefield..." Sameer murmured. "What is he doing in Midgard when his undead wage a war in Asgard?"

Lenneth didn't want to explain about Silmeria. Didn't want to go into the details of her own failure, and the shame that had befallen her youngest sister. Out loud she would only say this. "He normally spends his nights in Idavoll. But recently he has taken something from the Valkryies."

"Whatever he's stolen, they must want it back pretty badly." Noted Randolf. "The cities in Odin's holding were crawling with the battle maidens and their einherjar. No doubt making preparations to face the vampires on their island."

"How close would you say they are to the vampire's island?" Lenneth asked, She had dozens of questions, her curiosity overflowing with the need to know what was happening. 

"If they get fast enough boats, and the weather remains clear, they should be able to reach the island by tomorrow." Randolf told her. Lenneth knew they would have no problem getting those boats. The mortals of the kingdoms that worshipped Odin, would fall over backwards to cater to the Valkyries' demands.

"Did you see any of the Valkyries up close?" asked the only other woman at the table.

"Not as close as I would have liked." Laughed Randolf, a leer on his face.

"If you had tried anything with the Valkyries, they would have gutted you like a pig." Noted another noble.

"Maybe, maybe not. They are women after all...and I have a way with females." Boasted Randolf.

"The Valkyries would not have welcomed you trying." Lenneth told him sternly. "If you had run into my sister Hrist..." She shook her head, leaving her thoughts unfinished. "Tell me. Among the Valkyries you saw. Was there one who resembled me? With long hair as black a a raven's feathers?" 

"Wearing an armor that was a vivid purple?" Randolf asked her.

"Then you've seen her?" She didn't know how to feel about that. Lenneth had been expected Hrist to be put in charge of the hunting party that would go after Brahms and Silmeria. It didn't make things any easier to accept, Lenneth fearing by tomorrow night, one of her sisters would be irrevocably dead.

"If you have a sister among the hunting party, might they not come to Flenceburg?" A noble asked. "I'm sure they would like to visit with you."

"No." Lenneth said flatly. "I doubt they will come to see me."

"But...."

"They will not come unless on Odin's business." Lenneth explained. "And he will not send them here just to celebrate my impending nuptials. Not when he has need of them in Asgard."

"What if they slew the vampire king?" Sameer asked. "Surely then the war would be over with. You would only have to deal with the remnants of his kingdom."

Lenneth fixed him with a bleak look. "If it was that easy to kill the vampire Lord, we would have done so centuries ago."

"Then why face the monster in his territory?" Randolf wanted to know. "If there is no chance of success..."

"Randolf think!" snapped another noble. "It is not about winning. Odin simply cannot allow this insult to go unchallenged, Even if his soldiers fail, an effort must be made. Else the vampires will assume they can walk all over his armies." 

It was as good an explanation as any. The taking of Silmeria could not go unchallenged. Anymore than they could allow Brahms to think he had the right to do as he pleased, especially where the Valkyries were concerned. Lenneth knew all this, but it didn't make it any easier to accept that one of her sisters had to die and soon. 

The nobles were still talking, the conversation drifting away from the hunting party. Lenneth did not try to participate, just sitting quietly besides Randolf. She wondered if Lezard was still with Hel. Worried for him, and hated herself for that fear.

"Excuse me." She said abruptly, rising to her feet. The nobles hastily rose as well, not wanting to be impolite.

"Leaving so soon?" Randolf asked her, and she nodded. 

"Lord Lezard asked for you to wait for him here." Sameer reminded her.

"I am tired of waiting." Lenneth told him truthfully. "If Lezard wants me, he can come find me." 

There was a few sputtered protests, but Lenneth hardly paid them any mind. She didn't know for certain if Lezard was still speaking with Hel. Nor did she know exactly where he had gone to hold the meeting with the Queen. But she wanted to track him down. Not because she wanted to see him, but because she wanted to know just what he and the Goddess talked about. Lenneth didn't know if this would be her chance to actually discover anything useful, but she was determined to try!

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
To Be Continued....


	18. Eighteen

The worst of Hel's mess had been cleaned up, Lezard using minor spells to dispose of the ruins of some of his experiments. The searing flames made quick work of them, slowly burning away the remains so that no trace existed, not even ash. He didn't like that some of his work had been destroyed by the Goddess' tantrum, but it was a minor annoyance at best. Nothing of real importance had been destroyed. The experiments had been mere curiosities on his part.

Of course some were dangerous if left unchecked in the wrong hands. Which is why he had had to clean up the mess himself. He couldn't trust his servants not to burn or disfigure themselves, anymore than Lezard could trust them not to report what they had seen to others. There were curious eyes all around him, ambitious minds that would eagerly grasp at his work, ready to claim credit in his stead.

But that was neither here nor there. Lezard had more pressing things to worry about. The recent visit from Hel weighed heavy on his mind, the Goddess impatient for results. That impatience might be the ruin of all she plotted, but Hel would never accept the blame if things went badly for her. It would be Lezard who would be considered at fault. The kind of torments she would visit upon him made him shiver though he made no attempt at imagining it.

It was a dangerous game he had set into motion. There was much risk to himself, especially if he was to be discovered as anything less than faithful to Queen Hel. And yet he was locked into this path, Lezard having brokered a deal with Odin. One he could not wiggle out of. Especially now that he had his promised reward in his possession.

To displease Odin was to lose Lenneth. But more than that, the God would be ruthless and without mercy. He might even throw Lezard to Queen Hel, knowing no one was more inventive than the dark Goddess when it came to tortures. Again he shivered, knowing he had put himself between a rock and a hard place, and could only charge forward with the blind hopes that all would turn right at the end.

As such he had to handle Odin just as carefully as the Queen. It was an effort that took more energy from him than Lezard liked, the man weary after dealing with two deities in quick succession. Hel had barely left his workshop before Lezard was contacting Odin, though the God did not deign to appear before him in the flesh. No, Odin would never set foot in Hel's territory, not even during this sham of an alliance. 

Instead he had sent a vision of himself, a hologram projection that flickered and wavered depending on the intensity of Odin's emotions. That projection was centered on an amulet in Lezard's possession, one he need only speak a certain phrase over to get in contact with the Lord of Asgard. They had been communicating for weeks through the amulet, Odin keeping Lezard abreast of things concerning the arrival of his Valkyrie bride.

But it was not about Lenneth that Lezard had contacted Odin about this time, though the God had expressed interest in his Valkyrie's well being. Lezard had dispensed with the niceties, trying to get straight to the point of the call. Odin had acted put upon, as though it was a great burden Lezard bothered him with. Lezard had fought his own impatience, stressing his need. A need Odin has seemed loathe to acknowledge, even as Lezard reminded him of their bargain.

Odin had sighed then, giving a negligent wave. It had been his signal to continue, Lezard telling him of Hel's impatience. "She grows tired of waiting." Lezard had said. "She yearns for Asgard, yearns for that which you possess. Already she wants to make a move on your holdings, to claim all of Midgard for herself."

"Hel never did appreciate the wait." Odin had grumbled. "This alliance is not even a month old, and already she seeks to betray it!"

"My Queen has been waiting longer than a month." Lezard had reminded him. "She's been waiting centuries for her chance..."

"And she thinks that chance is now?" Odin had questioned with a lift of his eyebrow. "She is a fool."

"No, not a fool. Just ambitious." Lezard had retorted. "Her armies are larger than ever. Strengthened by the warriors she has stolen from you."

Odin's face had turned angry then, though he did not snarl out a retort. "She had no right to those souls. No right at all!"

Lezard wasn't there to argue about the rights and wrongs of what Hel did. "She has them all the same. And she will use them, bring down the heavens if she has to, in order to displace you." The look that had been on Odin's face strongly hinted that he might destroy the heavens by his own hand, if only to keep the realm out of Hel's possession. 

"Hel thinks she has the advantage." Lezard had continued. "With her new army, and the distraction the war with the undead provide you..."

"The bitch might win." Odin had acknowledged. 

"I of course will do everything I can to stop that from happening."

"Yes. You will." Odin had narrowed his eyes at Lezard then. "Or you will find out there are worse things than an eternity spent in the underworld."

There were times when Lezard wondered if he shouldn't have tried for more when bargaining with Odin. If he shouldn't have insisted on both Lenneth and paradise. The information he had given Odin was surely invaluable, it would have taken years, decades even, before the God could have discovered on his own what Hel was up to. And by that point, his armies would have been dwindled down to nearly nothing, leaving the heavens easy pickings for both Brahms and Hel.

But Odin had refused to give him more than one reward. He had forced Lezard to choose, and Lenneth had been what he had decided on. For good or for bad, he needed to possess her. Possess her in all the ways that mattered.

Lezard hadn't baited Odin, knowing the God would not be pleased to learn that the mage feared Hel's torments more than any threat Odin could make. Instead Lezard tried to maneuver the conversation back to the reason of his calling. "I need information." Lezard had said. "I need something I can tell the Queen. Something that will be seen as useful to her ambitions."

Odin wasn't as forthcoming with information as Lezard would have liked. "I will think about it."

"Think quickly then." Lezard had almost snapped then. "Without something to appease her, Hel won't wait. She will move ahead with her invasion, appearances be damned!"

"What odds would you give her chances of success?" Odin had inquired.

"Good ones." Lezard had been blunt. "She has amassed close to two hundred fifty-thousand warrior souls with her tricks. She has even more soldiers among the living, the mages waiting to be called upon." He had smiled then, an expression devoid of any amusement. "Many are eager for this battle, eager to prove themselves to their Queen. It won't be like last time...the mages won't be so easy to overwhelm."

"She will use the souls of the warriors to protect them." Odin had deduced. "They will stand guard as the living cast their spells."

"Yes."

"I will cooperate with you." Odin had sighed. "I will give you information to feed to your Queen."

"It might take more than a few secrets." Lezard had hedged. "You might have to give up a city or two..."

"WHAT?!" Odin had roared then, the sound booming, rattling things inside Lezard's workshop. He hadn't broken out into a sweat, projecting an outward calm to the God.

"It would lull Hel. She is no fool. If you don't give me something useful, something that can give her a concrete victory here on Midgard, then she would suspect the information I give her is false. Useless." Lezard had explained. 

"Sometimes I wonder if you are not playing ME for a fool." Odin had grumbled. "Very well. I will think on what city I can give her."

"She won't be satisfied with something small. She'll want to hit one of the largest of your holdings, take it and it's people before the others can get word of the attack."

"You want me to give up Crell Monferaigne, don't you?" Odin had demanded. "The largest and most holy of my holdings."

"It would go far to assuring her of my continued loyalty." Lezard had told him.

"I think you need to concentrate on proving your loyalty to me!" Odin's eyes had flashed with annoyance, a glare on his face.

"What more do you require?" Lezard had asked.

"Something more concrete than words." Odin had said. "I am taking a lot on the faith you are being true to me, that you won't betray me at the first opportune moment."

"I wouldn't."

Odin hadn't looked like he believed him. "You are a commander in Hel's armies. We can use that." 

"Use how?" Lezard had inquired, a bad feeling stirring within him at those words.

"All in good time." But the smile on Odin's face had been pleased. "I will be in contact with you shortly. I'll have made my decisions by then."

"Of course." Lezard had bowed his head, the hologram flickering out of existence abruptly. There was only the smallest hint of divine energy that remained, lingering on the metal of the amulet. The amulet was now in Lezard's pocket, the mage keeping it close to him at all times. It was difficult not to reach in and stroke it, but Lezard didn't want to call attention to the fact he was carrying something of such importance on him.

Lezard wondered just what Odin would demand of him, what sacrifices he would be expected to make. He could only hope the God would remember that Lezard couldn't risk doing anything too overt. Not without claiming Hel's attention! The goddess would be beyond livid if she learned of Lezard's betrayals, she would make both his life and his eternity a misery in retaliation. 

Ideally, Lezard had hoped to come away unscathed from his betrayals. It was his hope that Hel never learned of what he was attempting. It would be the only way to protect himself from her torments. A promise of paradise would have been better, but then he wouldn't have had Lenneth for his own. And Lenneth had been the key factor in Lezard's decision to betray the underworld's queen.

He had gone to Asgard on Hel's sanction. A mission the queen had given him to trick the Lord of Asgard into an alliance that was false. He had been prepared to do just about anything, say whatever the God wanted to hear to gain his trust. A part of him had even hoped to manipulate Odin for his own ends, Lezard having ambitions that went beyond Hel and her underworld.

But all that had changed when he saw the Valkyrie. When he saw her, Lenneth, an ethereal beauty that fought like a tigress unleashed. Something, his heart perhaps, had been moved. The desire to possess, to hold, to OWN filling him. He had wanted then, wanted more than he had ever before. Lezard had been unprepared to deal with the depth of his feeling, the desires and urges raging through him without control.

It had made him careless, Lezard could admit to that. To not only agree to so immense a betrayal of his own Goddess, but to actively plan her downfall? It should have been unthinkable. As should the idea of doing it without a safety net for his immortal soul. And yet he had wanted Lenneth so bad, couldn't bare the thought of leaving Asgard without some claim on her.

And so he had taken the deal Odin offered him. Taken it without a single moment's hesitation, his back turned on paradise. Did he regret what he had done? Not particularly. Not when he thought of his soon to be bride, and the life they could have together. But he couldn't stop fears from forming, worries gnawing at him. He worried for his own soul, but more than that, Lezard worried for Lenneth's safety.

Lezard understood that she would have been safest in the heavens. Even fighting a war was infinitely preferable to the torments Hel could visit upon the former Goddess. Lezard had made Lenneth vulnerable, had been the reason she had been made mortal. There was so many ways she could be hurt, so many ways his enemies could make her suffer now. And it would all be his fault, Lezard not having spent the time to think what it would mean to gain Lenneth as his mortal bride.

There was hope though, a chance. Hel, along with many in his kingdom, did not realize just how much Lenneth meant to Lezard. He meant to keep it that way, keep Lenneth from becoming the target of Hel's angers. Let the Goddess and those around him think the extent of his interest in Lenneth was in what she could give him. That she sealed the alliance, that she was just a body to warm his on a cold winter's night.

No one need ever know the true depth of his feelings. He was a good actor, a skilled deceiver. It should be easy for him to hide how affected he was by Lenneth. To smother that love into something that appeared to be nothing more than lust for his bride. He couldn't afford any more moments like the one in front of the stables. Couldn't afford such weakness and vulnerability where any one could see.

Again he thought of Lenneth, and how she deserved better than what Lezard could give her. He truly was unworthy of a Goddess, or at least a Goddess who wasn't tainted by the underworld. And yet he couldn't, wouldn't give Lenneth up. He feared he'd corrupt her before all this was through. Leave a stain upon her soul in his attempts to keep her with him.

His thoughts could continue indefinitely along these lines, the worries never stopping. But Lezard didn't sigh, did not outwardly betray how troubled he was as he approached the dining room. It would help to see Lenneth, to see the woman he had betrayed everything for. 

But his luck continued to take a downward spiral, Lenneth gone from the room. He tried not to frown at her absence, or the fact that Randolf was sitting in his seat. The blonde man was unapologetic, cheerfully rising with drum stick in hand. 

"You're back." Lezard said flatly.

"Just got here a few minutes ago." Randolf told him. "Your steward is taking stock of the gold I brought back with me."

Right now Lezard didn't care about any of that, more concerned with where Lenneth had gone. He hadn't failed to notice Mystina and her circle of followers had also disappeared, Lezard hoping they weren't off pestering Lenneth about some sort of nonsense.

"It's busy times." Randolf was saying. "Everyone is making preparations." He didn't lower his voice, knowing no one present in the room would dare betray what he was saying. "Queen Hel's soldiers on Midgard are waiting. Ready and willing to die at her command."

"They'll have to wait a little longer." Lezard told him. 

"Oh? And what is the Goddess waiting for?" Randolf asked. "We have never been stronger, never been closer to attaining all of our Queen's desires."

"She is cautious where you are not." Noted a seated noble. "Surely our Queen knows that to rush now, would be to jeopardize everything."

"Yes. You are right about the Goddess' wisdom." Lezard told him. "She bides her time, hoping Odin will lose just a little more power, and that he will reveal just a little more than he should to me."

"As if Odin would be that foolish!" scoffed another noble.

"He's agreed to the alliance." Lezard reminded them. "That shows he's not as smart as he once was." Agreeing laughter resounded in the room, the nobles smiling, many relieved. "I think it won't be long before Midgard becomes Hel's."

"When though?" Randolf wanted to know.

Lezard shrugged. "I do not speak in definites. But I hope it is sometime after I marry."

"Ah yes. I have met your bride to be." Randolf smiled. "She is beautiful."

"That she is." Agreed Lezard, and causally asked. "Where is Lenneth?"

A stir of unease from the men around him, the nobles exchanging glances. It only increased Lezard's bad feelings, the mage wondering what could have happened. Finally Sameer stood, the man's expression that of unhappiness. 

"I must speak to you at once." He said. "About the lady, and Mystina's objectionable behavior."

Lezard held back a sign, but his exasperation showed in his voice. "What has Mystina done now?"

"She is insolent under the best lights." Sameer told him. "She speaks carelessly and with malice."

"Oh she's malicious all right, but I would hardly call Mystina careless." Said another noble. "Everything she says and does is designed for impact. It is a pity she choose to employ those skills to hurt you and your betrothed."

"She hurt Lenneth?" His displeasure showed, Lezard unable to keep to just simply curiosity.

"Her words were needlessly cruel." Sameer launched into an explanation. "She called into question the nature of your relationship with Queen Hel. Her jealousy and bitterness knows no bounds. Mystina will not be content until she turns Lady Lenneth against you, ruins your chances at a happy marriage."

"She told the lady you don't love, That you are incapable of anything but desire." Added the sole woman still present at the table. 

"Love is overrated" spoke Randolf. "You do not need love for a happy marriage."

"Women would argue with you over that." Retorted a noble with a laugh.

"My point is desire can be more than enough." Randolf retorted, a tad defensive. "Lezard is a rich, powerful man. The Valkyrie's needs will be more than taken care of."

"And what of her emotional needs?" inquired the woman. "What of those?"

"Didn't think Valkyries had many feelings..." admitted Randolf. "Thought they were supposed to better than mortal women."

"Randolf!" The woman glowered at him.

"Calm down Mirrielle." Sameer advised her. "Randolf often speaks before thinking. We all know that." He sighed then. "And unlike Mystina, he speaks without the intent to do harm."

"Mystina won't get away with this." Vowed Lezard. "I will find her and deal with her personally." Some of his anger slipped into his expression, the nobles seeming to shudder as they lowered their gazes.

"Deal with Mystina. But be sure to find your betrothed, and heal some of the damage the wench has done to her." Advised Mirrielle. "Your lady may be a warrior first and foremost, but she still has a woman's heart. And it can be damaged if left to fend against such poison."

"Yes, of course. I shall seek out Lenneth immediately." Lezard glanced at Randolf. "You'll have to fill me in on your travels at a later date and time."

"Go. Find your woman." Randolf ordered him, a good-natured smile on his face. Other encouragements were given, the nobles seeming heart felt in their desire to see their Lord's relationship with Lenneth prosper. They weren't at all like Mystina, actually trust worthy to an extent. He was relieved they had told them what had happened at breakfast, grateful for the chance to attempt to do damage control. He wouldn't allow Mystina to ruin his chances with Lenneth, wouldn't allow her to poison the nature of their relationship.

But first he had to find Lenneth in order to soothe her. And no one seemed to know where the Valkyrie had gone. Truthfully he was amazed, wondering how anyone could misplace her. But the few clues to her whereabouts turned up nothing, Lenneth long gone from the library and stables. He would be on his second trip through the castle, when he spied Mystina and her group. 

One look at Mystina's smirking face, and instantly anger flared within him. She knew it too, though the blonde sorceress did not show an ounce of remorse. Instead she boldly met his gaze, expression mocking as she asked a question of him. "Is everything all right, Lezard?!"

"You know damn well everything is not all right!" Lezard snapped at her, voice just short of shouting. Mystina feigned shock, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  
"Oh my. Did your meeting with Queen Hel go so badly?"

 

She would sincerely love it if he fell out of favor with the Goddess. But he wasn't yet shamed before Hel, and his concerns were more pressing, oriented solely on the offenses Mystina had committed to him and to Lenneth. 

"My anger has nothing to do with our queen." Lezard wanted to reach out and throttle Mystina by the neck. But killing her wouldn't solve the problems she had caused. 

"Oh, you are angry? I hadn't realized." A sly smile from the blonde. She was far too pleased with herself. 

"You've not yet begun to see the heights of my anger." He told her, than gave an angry, dismissive gesture. "Ladies, leave us! I would speak with Mystina alone."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them!" Mystina protested, as the women began murmuring apologies. Their Lord had spoken, and they would not linger without his permission.

"Their presence won't save you from punishment." Lezard told her. 

"Punishment?!" She gasped, looking truly dismayed. "I have done nothing to deserve your punishment!"

"That's not what I have heard." Lezard retorted. The last of her group disappeared into a nearby room. Lezard had no doubt they would be pressed up against the door, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

"It's lies." Mystina instantly claimed. "Someone seeks to slander me, to get me in trouble."

"Oh, so you deny talking to Lenneth?"

"Lady Lenneth?" She faked a frown. "I do admit to sharing some pleasantries with her at breakfast."

"Pleasantries?!" Lezard snorted. "You call calling into doubt my ability to love, a pleasant topic of conversation?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes, I know. I know all of it. How you so cruelly made insinuations, spoke words meant to hurt Lenneth and make her doubt me. You attempt to ruin my marriage before it is even formed!"

"Why do you even care?" Mystina demanded. "The Valkyrie is just a means to an end. It's not like you have any real feelings for her beyond lust!"

"I am to marry her! I want civility in my house and in my bed. I will have none of that if you continue unchecked."

"The Valkyrie will never be happy here. Never be content to be just your wife." Mystina argued. "She longs for Asgard, prefers the battlefield to that of your bed."

"She just needs time to adjust to her new life." Lezard said defensively. "An adjustment she won't make so long as you continue to pester and hound her!" 

"So what would you have me do? Avoid her completely?" Mystina shook her head, her hair bouncing wildly. "I could no sooner stay away than you could! Not when she holds the answers to so many questions."

"You will make the effort all the same." Ordered Lezard coldly.

"Think of the opportunities the Valkyrie offer us!" Mystina continued to press him. "If I could study her, experiment on her, I could..."

"Experiment on Lenneth!?" He was aghast. "You will do no such thing. I forbid it."

"But Lezard...."

"But nothing Mystina." He stepped towards her with menacing intent. "If you try to harm Lenneth, either through words or action, I will make you pay." He snarled then. "I will not let you use Lenneth, or harm her in an attempt to get in good with Queen Hel."

"Your lust has blinded you to the potential the Valkyrie presents us." Mystina retorted. "Or is it you fear my research? Fear the foothold it will gain me with Queen Hel?"

"There's nothing a hack with your level of power can do to impress our Queen." Lezard's words had anger spiking in Mystina's eyes. 

"You won't always be the queen's favorite." Mystina warned. "Mark my words, someday you will be replaced."

"But never by you." Lezard retorted, a cruel smile of his own worn on his lips. Mystina made a disgruntled sound, moving to walk past him. He grabbed her by the arm, halting her escape. Mystina was forced to turn to face him, the woman hissing out her displeasure.

"Let go of me!"

"We are not finished Mystina. Not by a long shot." Lezard told her. "You owe Lenneth an apology."

"What? For what?" demanded Mystina.

"For your behavior this morning. And for the malice you harbor against her." Lezard said. 

"If you think I'm going to apologize to anyone, let alone the Valkyrie....!"

"I don't just think, I know you will. You will heed my command." Lezard's voice was low, angry. 

"Oh, your command?" She scoffed, her insolence even more apparent now.

"I am still Lord of this castle, still ruler of Flenceburg." He reminded her.

"Only in Queen He's place. And only so long as you retain her favor." She jerked on her arm, trying to get free. "Let go of me you brute!"

He didn't relax his grip, knowing she would surely come away from this encounter bruised. "You're right of course. But the fact remains, I am still the one in charge. You will apologize to Lenneth. You will put away any further thoughts of using her for your own ends. And you will avoid her as much as possible."

"I will not!"

"You will! Or else I will strip you of your title, collect on your fortunes, and leave you to flounder penniless in the gutter." Lezard was cold as he said this, even as his anger inside him flamed so hot it was burning him alive.

It was no idle threat he made, and Mystina understood that. "You would go that far?" He only smiled in return, a nasty, unpleasant smirk. "Queen Hel would never allow you to throw away someone of my talent! You are a fool if..."

"It is you who is the real fool Mystina!" Lezard spoke over her. "You place too much value on yourself. You think you are special, and yet there are hundreds of others just like you, all greedy and ambitious, grasping for power. You wonder why Hel has never elevated you beyond what you think you deserve. But the simple truth is you matter not one bit to her!"

Mystina's mouth opened and closed, her eyes intensely angry. But he had cut her to the quick, and all because he spoke the truth. "Fine....fine!" Her eyes blazed, her voice sounding near animalistic in her growl. "I will do as you ask. I will play nice with your precious Valkyrie and apologize for hurting her feelings!" She gave a violent jerk on her arm, Lezard letting go so suddenly that she stumbled forward. 

Mystina would catch and right her footing, turning to glare at him one more time. Mystina looked as though she had more to say, but he was in no mood to hear it. Lezard stalked past Mystina, hearing her let out a low voiced scream she tried to muffled with her hand. She was just as infuriated as Lezard, maybe even more so. She was a dangerous enemy to have, her ambitions and jealousy being the defining force that kept her going. Lezard knew he would have to tread even more carefully around Mystina, the sorceress eager for his fall from grace.

And it seemed she wasn't just hungry for Lezard's blood, but Lenneth's as well. Lezard seethed with rage, all over the nerve of Mystina. As if he would ever consider experimenting on Lenneth, even to please his Queen. The very thought had him shaking, a violent tremble he could not control. Anymore than he could calm down the worse of his anger, Lezard's eyes violent with it.

The look on his face had many of the servants frightened, the men and women doing their best not to further rouse their master's displeasure. Lezard knew he would calm down some if he could find Lenneth, but the woman continued to be elusive, never staying in one spot for long. It was as though she was looking for something, though Lezard didn't dare hope he was what she searched for.

But he wouldn't give up, stopping everyone, both servant and noble. All to inquire if they had seen the former Goddess. Their words sent him scurrying all over the castle, until finally he was in the wing that was reserved for him and him alone. Not many ventured to this part of the castle. Not without reason, and certainly not without permission from Lezard. And yet the reports he had been given all strongly hinted this was the last place Lenneth had been seen.

He stepped quicker through the corridor that would lead him to his workshop and bedroom. Would he find his quarry at long last? Did he even want to? What would Lenneth think of his workshop, of the experiments laid out in the open for her to view? He remembered the body spread out on the table, and inwardly flinched. He instinctively knew Lenneth would not approve, even if that body was simply that of a monster's.

And yet perversely, there was pleasure in thinking of her situated in his private chambers. Of seeing Lenneth among his things, the woman venturing where few others had dared to. Even worse, his thoughts turned from his workshop to the bedroom that lay beyond it, Lezard wanting to see Lenneth inside it. To see her sit on his bed, lay back with a smile as she invited him near.

He wasn't so deluded to think their relationship was anywhere near that point. But it was a nice thought to linger on, even as he pushed open the door. She appeared not to notice his arrival, Lenneth's back to him as she studied one of his experiments. She looked without touching, keeping her hands behind her back as though fearing contamination from the objects that lay on the table.

Lezard stood for one moment just staring at her. He was so greedy for Lenneth that even the sight of her back stirred him, though it would never be enough. Looking wouldn't content him forever, he needed a connection between them. Needed touch added to sight, wanting the intimacy of true lovers. That desire is what got him to step towards her, allowing the door to slam shut behind him.

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To Be Continued...


	19. Nineteen

It had not been difficult for Lenneth to discover the location of Lezard's private rooms. The many servants that he employed were only too willing to answer her questions, some even so eager as to offer to escort her there. She had demurred against being accompanied, Lenneth telling them she did not want to take them away from their jobs. Fortunately for her, no one made any insistences against her protests.

She was both surprised and not surprised to learn Lezard kept himself separate from the others in the castle. She didn't know him well, but Lenneth very much thought he was a man who valued his privacy. To the extent he had made sure to take a whole wing of the castle for himself, several rooms appointed for his exclusive use. Many of the rooms were used for storage, Lenneth having spied book cases whose shelves were cluttered with jars and containers. She hadn't bothered to attempt to catalog the items there, just sensed the magic whose essence clung like dust to their skin.

There had even been barrels, and large sealed crates. It seemed Lezard would want for nothing when it came to his alchemy. One room was chilled by spells, a magical device needed to keep the contents inside fresh for longer periods of time.

Those cluttered rooms might warrant a closer look, though Lenneth had her doubts about finding anything useful amidst Lezard's warehouse. She felt he had to keep anything of true value closer to him. Somewhere he could readily notice if it had been tampered with. That led her into his workshop, Lenneth looking around at the many experiments that lay out in the open.

She wasn't as accomplished a mage as those men and women who made Flenceburg their home. But Lenneth did have some magical aptitude. Enough to sense the dark nature of some of the spells that had been cast over the objects in this room. As such, she was very careful not to actually touch anything, not wanting to risk getting a curse cast on her.

It made looking more difficult, Lenneth trying to snoop without using her hands. Her nose wrinkled at some of the smells, Lenneth scenting the divine energy that so mimicked the essence of magic. But it was different from the ether she was so used to breathing in Asgard. There was the scent of brimstone associated to it, the taint of the corrupt. Lenneth instinctively knew it was Hel she had smelled, her hackles raised in response to the scents that lingered in the room.

It wasn't just the fact that Hel had been here. The experiments disturbed her, especially the one with the body. It had no head, having been sliced off by some weapon. But she could see it's insides, the body not emptied of it's vital organs. She couldn't imagine what purpose it would serve. Lenneth just knew it bothered her to see it, and not even the fact that it was neither animal nor human could reassure her.

She quickly moved on, pausing to lean over a table that held a row of beakers. Each tubing had a different, brightly colored liquid. Some bubbled inside the glass tubes, while others were still, and one was even in the process of freezing. A book was open a few inches to the right of the beaker, a messy scrawl printed on the page. Lenneth assumed it was Lezard's handwriting, the woman bending closer in an attempt to read the words.

It was then that the room's door slammed shut. The sound startled Lenneth, the woman practically jumping in place in response. Her heart beat just a little faster, but her quickened pulse had no effect on the way she moved. Lezard was standing before the door, arms relaxed at his side. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression, leaving Lenneth to guess if he was displeased by her presence in his private sanctum.

"Lezard...."

"I have been looking for you, Lenneth." He stayed in front of the door, almost as though he would bar her from leaving. It was an uncomfortable thought, Lenneth trying not to react like a bird trapped in a cage.

"Have you now?" She asked, pleased her voice came out even. It didn't betray any of her unease, just as her face did not show her guilt over snooping.

"You are a difficult woman to track down." Lezard told her. "I feel like I've been all over the castle this past hour."

"I...I am sorry." Lenneth apologized. "I was exploring...."

"There's no need to apologize for that."

She didn't relax to hear that. "Do you have need of me?" The weirdest expression crossed her betrothed's face, and seconds later he would vanquish it. It didn't lessen Lenneth's uncertainty, the woman shifting uncomfortably. "You mentioned you were looking for me....I thought that meant you had a reason..."

"Do I need a reason beyond wanting to see you?" Lezard asked, tone soft.

Again she shifted, trying not to give him startled eyes. "Well, no." She admitted. "You are to be my husband. You can call on me at anytime..." That served only to frustrate him, Lezard shaking his head no. Lenneth felt as though she had given him offense, and didn't know how to set things right. So Lenneth did the only thing she could, a careful gesture of her hand at the beakers on the table. "What is it you are working on?"

He seemed to take that as an invite to approach her. "I'm breaking down the components of various substances, trying to find the essence that makes them what they are."

"And the body?"

"I've extracted it's fluids." Lezard explained. "Many are poisonous to mortals, but if run through a filter..." He shrugged. "Some have proved beneficial, provided the correct dosage is used." He had reached her, stepping so close the front of his shoes touched the toes of her slippers. "There is a high market for medicines, the mortals desperate to advance their knowledge of cures."

She couldn't exactly back away from him. Not without risk of bumping into the table. So Lenneth forced herself to be still. "I didn't think you would have such an interest in my work." Lezard continued, his amethyst colored eyes studying her.

"Much of it is beyond the realm of my understanding." Lenneth admitted. "But I wanted to see...To know what it is that occupies your time."

"These experiments are only a small part of my day." He sighed then. "Too much do I find myself busy with the running of this castle and kingdom. It is tiresome."

"So there are disadvantages to being Lord of all you survey." She didn't mean it, but her words came out as though Lenneth was teasing him.

"There are." He smiled then. "But there are also benefits." His eyes reflected her startled face, Lezard reaching to touch her hair. She had forgotten to fix her braid, many unruly strands still free and curling about her face. Lezard did not seem to mind, taking pleasure out of stroking his hand over her hair. Lenneth tried not to stiffen, even as her words came out harshly.

"And am I one of those benefits?" The things Mystina had been saying were fresh in her mind, Lenneth staring searchingly at Lezard. He appeared not to know how to answer, and this time she sighed and stepped to the side of him. "I know I mean nothing to you. Nothing save the fulfillment of your Queen's alliance." She wasn't looking at Lezard, and thus was taken aback by his growl.

"You know nothing." Startled, Lenneth turned back to him. Lezard was almost glaring at her, so fiercely did he look at her. 

"You can't honestly tell me I am wrong." She argued. "I'm a token of good will, our marriage nothing more than a formality. A way to bridge our two kingdoms. Any Valkyrie would have done, it is just chance that I am here."

His brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he would argue with her. But then he sighed, and looked away. "You are letting Mystina fill your head with nonsense."

"Am I?" Her words were a challenge, but her voice was so soft, unsure. 

"You are." He looked at her again, Lezard's eyes blazing. "She knows nothing of my wants, of my desires." 

"Desires do not equate this to mean something more." Lenneth retorted. "You can want me without true feelings or concern for my well being. Where I? I have no such defenses." She didn't lower her eyes, though she did bring her hand to close in a fist over her heart. "I have been weakened by Odin's spell. My heart has been toyed with, my feelings tampered with. I want to love you...But I cannot afford to." She shook her head then. "I will not be your plaything, my heart yours to crush."

"Lenneth." Was the upset that showed in his eyes real? Was anything he said trustworthy? Lenneth strongly remembered Mystina's words, how the sorceress had said Lezard incapable of loving anyone, even himself. "You have it all wrong. Not just you. Mystina too. Neither of you know what you speak of...."

"Do not compare me to her." Lenneth begged.

"She speaks with malicious intent. You speak out of a need to protect yourself. You are not the same. But you come to the same conclusions about me, and it is the wrong one to have!" Once again he approached her, reaching out with his hand to stop her from fleeing. 

"Why is Mystina so bitter then?" Lenneth tried to ignore the fact that his hand was on her arm, holding her in place. "What reason could she have to hate so strongly?"

"She is bitter. And jealous of me. She longs for recognition from our Queen. Mystina fails to realize she is like a hundred others, powerful but with no real potential." Lezard explained. "Mystina feels she has been done wrong, that her skill has gone unrecognized. She sees what I have, and she envies me." His other hand was extending towards her face, Lenneth holding herself still though she thought she might shatter if her touched her there.

"That envy and bitterness has found a new focus. She wants to get to me through you. Wants to ruin our chances before we can try to make something of this relationship! Don't let her..." He said the last in an imploring tone, his expression earnest as he begged softly.

"This matters to you." Lenneth spoke with shocked realization. "You want this union between us to work. Why?"

Now he turned embarrassed, dropping his hand away from her face. "We are to be married. I think it would be better to have you as my friend, than as my enemy."

"Is that all?" Lenneth couldn't help but feel disappointed. She knew it was foolish of her. He didn't know her, didn't love her. He had no feelings where she was concerned. He simply wanted peace in his household. A peace he might not get if she was anything less than compliant.

"If you give me the chance, the time, it could become something more." Lenneth knew that was probably the best Lezard could offer her. Her heart panged with hurt, Lenneth sure he would never feel anything as powerful as what the love enchantment tried to force on her. It was a curse, forcing her to love without gaining that love back. She lowered her eyes, unable to bear looking at him in this moment.

"Lenneth!" He made a frustrated sound, both his hands touching her cheeks, lifting her face to look at him. "Mystina is wrong about me. And so are you. I can love...."

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Her question took him aback, she could see how startled he   
was by it. "Or anything?"

"No." He sighed with his admission. "I've never let myself get that close to anyone...or they to me." He locked eyes with her, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "I've never known love. Never been blessed with even the love of a parent."

"Mystina told me a little about your past." Lenneth admitted to him, trying to ignore how nice it felt having his thumbs caressing over her skin. "How you were abandoned as a child...."

"Mystina talks for too much for her own good." He grumbled.

"That she does." Lenneth agreed. "But in this case I am glad for the talk. For it reveals to me a side of you I hadn't considered." She lifted her hands, to cover his. But Lenneth couldn't smile, couldn't feel anything but this uncertain pain. "I won't be like her and say you are incapable of love. But you were done an injustice. By your own parents no less! I don't know why they abandoned you....but they took away so much from you."

"It wasn't so bad." He had turned defensive. "The women at the orphanage were kind to me. And when my potential was revealed..."

"They were ecstatic. They must have seen you as a tool to be used. I understand you were given the best of educations, nothing denied to you. But did anyone ever stop to hug you? To kiss you and promise you that everything would be all right?"

"They praised me often....." Lezard hesitated. "But that is not the same as being loved, is it?"

"No, it is not." Now Lenneth made him move his hands, but she didn't let go of him. "I know what love is. And not just because of some enchantment of Odin's! I have love for my sisters, and I had the love of my parents. Centuries may have passed since their deaths, but I still remember the warmth of their feelings, the love behind their actions."

"Would you tell me about them?" Lezard asked. "Tell me what a real family is like?"

"There is good times and bad times." Lenneth told him. She was searching through her memories, trying to grasp onto something she could give him. Something that wasn't hazy and nearly gone due to how much time had passed. "Love, as wonderful as it is, cannot stop bad things from happening. But it can lessen the effects, keep sadness at bay."

"Was there much sadness in your house?" 

"No. We were blessed." Her father's laughter echoed in her ears, Lenneth remembering how often he had smiled. How the man had beamed with pride, aglow with the knowledge that he had sired three beautiful daughters. He hadn't cared about their divinity, hadn't spared a thought that one day all too soon they would leave him. He was merely happy, giving constant hugs, tossing Lenneth up into the sky before snatching her back down in his arms.

"We lived in Crell Monferaigne. Even then it was the holiest of Odin's cities. My father was a knight, charged with protecting the temples. He commanded a squadron of temple knights. I can remember as early as five wanting to pick up a sword....wanting to dedicate my life to the heavens." A brief flicker of a sad smile. "Of course my father thought that too young an age to start training. I can remember watching my older sister Hrist with envy as she practiced her sword drills with the knights."

She remembered the jealous zeal that had filled her, both awed and envious of Hrist. Not of her skill, but simply the fact that she got to hold a sword, got to duel with the knights. How many years would she have to wait until her father deigned to allow her to begin her training? Even now, Lenneth could remember the sadness in his eyes, the reluctance he had in giving her a sword. But he had known they couldn't put it off indefinitely. Odin would not allow the young Goddess to become anything but one of the commanders of his armies.

"Part of the love of a parent is letting go." Lenneth said out loud. "In knowing when it is time to let your child walk her own path. It's never easy, but it's something that must be done...."

"How old were you when Odin brought you to the heavens?" Lezard asked when it became apparent she would say no more.

"Roughly eighteen years of your time had passed. Not yet enough time to have been set in my immortality." She remembered how excited she had been, how taken with the sights of the heavens. Even being thrust onto a battlefield couldn't dull her enthusiasm, Lenneth fighting just as fierce as any of the other, more experienced Valkyrie. 

Lezard didn't act shocked by how young Lenneth had been when Odin took her to the heavens. But then she suspected as a disciple of Hel, he too had been worked hard at a young age. 

"It was rare, but I did get the chance to visit my family on Midgard. Not as often as I would have liked." She sighed then. "Every time I saw them, my parents were older....all too soon they would be at death's door." She called to mind her mother's smiling face, withered with age. Her mother had grown to love Lenneth's' father, never seeming to regret the years she had spent with him.

"I'm sorry." At his apology, Lenneth abruptly let go of Lezard's hands, turning away.

"There's nothing to apologize for. It is a mortal's fate to grow old and die." It was her fate too now. Her long life that had seem to stretch on for all eternity would soon be at it's end. Time was now her enemy, the years would pass by all too quickly. 

Lezard did not speak out loud. There were no words that he could possibly offer her that would make it easier to grieve her lost immortality. Instead he laid his hands on her shoulders, lending her his warmth. She wanted to lean into him, take the support he was offering her. But Lenneth was conscious of how vulnerable she already was, speaking more emotionally than she had ever thought possible of herself.

She wanted to distract herself from that vulnerable state she found herself in, Lenneth casting about for a topic that would open up her heart further to him. Asking Lezard about his own childhood hardly seemed ideal, it held the potential to make her sympathize with him. 

"I understand you've been to Asgard?" That seemed a safer topic to broach. 

"Why yes. I had work to do in Hel's name."

She didn't ask him what he thought of the shining realm, knowing everyone who saw it fell in love with it's majestic beauty. "Is that when you negotiated the alliance between Lord Odin and Queen Hel?"

"Yes." Her dress rustled, Lenneth turning to face him. She had so many questions then, Lenneth studying him carefully.

"Mystina says you accomplish the impossible. That you succeeded where others failed." A guarded look had come to his expression. "Just what did you say to my King to get him to even consider allying with your queen?"

A graceful shrug of his shoulders. "I merely made him an offer. I presented nothing that Hel wasn't prepared to offer."

"Still, it is impressive. Often times has Odin thrown out or even killed her emissaries. That he even listened to you, is a miracle of itself." 

"It is just a case of making the right offer at the key time."

"Then is it true? Is my Lord so desperate for a win against the undead, that he is now willing to do anything?" Lenneth asked. 

"I wouldn't say just about anything." Lezard hesitated. "But he is open to any help he can get."

"Will other Valkryies come to Flenceburg?" She shook her head then. "I suppose they will. So long as Odin continues to ally with Hel, he will reward her people with the brides they so covet."

Again that strange look in his eyes, as though Lezard was holding back something he wanted her to know. But whatever it was, his desire not to tell her won out, Lezard keeping quiet.

"You should be careful of Mystina." She said out loud. That Lenneth had brought the topic back to the sorceress shocked him, Lezard not hiding the surprise in his eyes. "She is as you say....jealous and bitter. It's a bad combination that too often leads to trouble."

"How well I know it." Lezard agreed. "She is a dangerous foe to have at my back. But even more dangerous to leave unchecked. At least here in the castle, I can keep an eye on her."

"Is that why you allow her to stay?" 

"In part. Of course, if she proves too problematic, I may have to do something about her after all." He looked annoyed. "Mystina doesn't have the sense to appreciate her position and the good she could do with it. She antagonizes me, and goes after you."

"I can handle her." Lenneth insisted.

"But you shouldn't have to." Lezard exclaimed. "I've spoken with her. If she has any semblance of brains, she will not bother you again." He flashed her a half smile. "If you think up a punishment suitable for her misbehavior, you will tell me won't you?"

"Of course." She bowed her head in agreement, nowhere as startled this time when Lezard reached out to finger her hair. Lenneth was one step closer to getting used to these casual touches of his. One step closer to not reacting like a skittish animal every time Lezard came too near. Even worse, she liked the play of his fingers on her hair, liked how carefully he petted over the platinum strands. 

He was staring at her face as he did this, Lezard's half smile starting to blossom into a full one. She couldn't smile back, not even an uncertain one. The enchantment was playing havoc with her emotions, making her far more vulnerable to him than she should be. Her words of a few minutes earlier flashed in her head, Lenneth feeling embarrassment over her admittance of how she WANTED to love him. It was practically admitting defeat, and if he was a cruel man, Lezard would press his advantage. 

But all signs pointed to him being the opposite of cruel. That might make things worse for her, Lenneth knowing a kind man would be easier to fall in love with. It would lower her resistance, might make her fight just a little less harder against being with him. Even as she thought that, Lenneth tried to harden her heart. It was difficult, especially when she felt all a flutter, something inside her melting at Lezard's smile.

She was not used to these reactions. They served as much to spook her as to make Lenneth yield. Unprepared, she could love him. And all it would take was a dropping of the last of her defenses. But Lenneth could not surrender so easily, especially not to this man. Even with his apparent kindness, and desire to make a relationship work between them. 

It was better than what a lot of women got. Especially when it came to arranged marriages. Lenneth knew she could have done worse when it came to husbands. Even as she recognized Lezard was not the ideal match a Valkyrie could make. Not with his devotion to Hel, and his black magic spells. Proof of some of his fouler works were all around them, Lenneth never forgetting there was a cut open body in the room.

It wasn't a human's though, and that made a key difference. As did the fact his work with it was meant to further the mortal's advancement of medicines. It was surprising, Lenneth never having considered one could do good with bad magic. And yet that was what Lezard was doing, provided he was being truthful about that particular experiment.

He was still touching her hair, looking far too pleased with himself at the continued touch she allowed. If Lenneth were to describe Lezard's expression, she would say he was enchanted in the moment. It made her flush with emotion, Lenneth finding she wanted to be ridiculously happy in response to the pleasure he gained just from touching her. Was this what it would be like to be in love? To feel happy in response to pleasing the object of one's affections?

She had no experience with love when it extended beyond that of the love she felt for her sisters and parents. Never had Lenneth felt the warmth and intimacy of a lover's affection. She could feel the differences between the two kinds of love, and knew neither was to be feared. At least under normal circumstances! But this love developing in her heart was not normal. Or wanted! It was manufactured, and would make a fool of her. It was already well to succeeding, Lenneth forcing away the last vestiges of her ridiculous happiness.

She must have given some outward sign of her success, Lezard's smile dimming. He'd actually take his hand away, as though aware his touch would no longer be welcomed. The silence between them became awkward, all their earlier comfort ruined.

"I should go." Lenneth said out loud. But her feet weren't moving.

"Must you?" Lezard asked her, sounding as though it was the last thing he wanted. And that only made her more determined than ever to leave, Lenneth nodding her head.

"I'm sure you have work to do."

"Nothing that can't wait." Lezard told her. She felt pleasure that he would put aside his work for her, and yet still Lenneth insisted on going.

"Your people will not appreciate my distracting you." Lenneth forced herself to turn away, her slow moving feet propelling her towards the door. He followed her, all too persistent in the moment.

"I'm sure they would understand." He told her. "Nor would the begrudge me the time spent getting to know my betrothed."

They were strangers to each other. And strangers they must remain, Lenneth holding out hope that she would one day return to the heavens. She couldn't afford any earthly attachments, could not allow herself to feel for him more than she already did. 

"There will be time yet in the future for us to get to know one another." The lie rolled smoother off her tongue than she had expected. "After all, it's not like I am going anywhere." She had reached the door, hand pulling on the handle. The door creaked open, and was abruptly pushed close, Lezard's hand pressing on the wood. He stood next to her, all but pinning Lenneth between him and the door. She tensed in preparation for an attack, her clothes rustling against his as Lenneth turned to look at him.

"The wedding will be the day after tomorrow." He was looming over her, appearing bigger than she had first believed. Lenneth gazed up at his face, feeling trapped. Both by his nearness, and the words he spoke. 

"I will be ready." She all but whispered. His other hand rose, Lezard bringing it towards her cheek. But he didn't actually touch her, content to just hover it in place. But she could feel the warmth of him ghosting along her skin. It was almost worse than if he had touched her directly, Lenneth finding she yearned to press into his hand.

He didn't challenge what she had said. Nor did he say anything else to her. His hand moved as though he was actually caressing her, Lenneth closing her eyes briefly in response. That was a mistake on her part, Lenneth opening her eyes as she felt warmth on her lips. Lezard had leaned into her, his lips almost touching hers. It called to memory the awakening kiss he had given her, the one meant to steal her heart's choice from her.

"D.....don't..." Lenneth stammered, having no space to maneuver away from Lezard.

"Lenneth..." He whispered her name, his intent focused on her. She knew then he was determined to take the kiss from her. A moment of fleeting panic filled her, gut twisting as she gave in to worry. If a kiss had awakened her to a magically manufactured love, would another bring her even closer to submitting? Lenneth did not know, nor did she want to risk finding out the answer to her question.

His lips started to touch hers, and Lenneth lashed out. Her hands shoved him violently away, and only Lezard's surprise allowed him to move. He hadn't succeeded in kissing her fully, but Lenneth was distressed all the same. She stared at him one long moment, sure her expression was as tortured as Lezard's was. "I....I'm sorry!" She gasped out the instant before she wrenched open the doors. But she didn't mean that apology. 

"Lenneth!" Lezard cried out her name, but it wasn't enough to stop her from lurching out the door. His shout didn't draw her attention back to him, Lenneth hauling up her skirts and breaking into a run. She ran as though the very hounds of Hel chased her, but there was no outdistancing her true opponent. Love and the enchantment would track her down, follow Lenneth no matter where she hid, no matter how often she fled.

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To Be Continued....


	20. Twenty

Her sleep wasn't so all consuming for her not to dream. She simply wasn't that fortunate, her mind restless and stirred up by both the exertions of her body, and the feelings she had awakened to briefly as a vampire. Those feelings weren't so easy to soothe away. They raged out of control within her, Silmeria remembering the way she had lusted for the vampire, that powerful and impressive male.

It was thoughts of Brahms that were heavy on her mind, following her down into sleep. It wasn't just the moments in the ball room she saw, though those would have been strong enough to keep her in a perpetual state of arousal. Other, less volatile memories swirled, working to calm, to soothe her emotional turmoil. She caught bits and pieces, Silmeria replaying the nights of her captivity.

Those two nights she had thus far spent as a vampire, were filled with constant, new sensations. Her sight and sound enhanced. It wasn't the only newness to her life, Silmeria had much change to acclimatize to. And the one presence that had been a near constant since her awakening was him. Brahms. He had been with her when she first opened her eyes, and she instinctively knew he would have been with her if that other vampire hadn't called him away on business.

Brahms. Her mind wouldn't stop thinking about him. Wouldn't stop remembering the look in his eyes, the crimson always so dark with desire and a yearning that was going unfulfilled. He turned that all consuming gaze on her often, the vampire not bothering to hide how he wanted her. Often, the look was such that a lesser female would have fallen to her knees, would have stripped herself of all her defenses to cater to his demands.

She was never so weak willed as that. Instinct led her to know with absolutely surety that Brahms wouldn't have settled for so docile and easily controlled a female. The predator in him, the vampire, wanted the pleasure that came from having an equal. One that wouldn't break under his dominance, one that could match him in the play of give and get.

The memories pressed in on her, Silmeria seeing flashes of the nights spent in the vampire's bedroom. Of being pinned beneath him, his strong weight a pleasurable heaviness that intrigued her. She hadn't had time to properly appreciate his nearness then, her attention had become riveted on the blood that dripped off of his neck. The memory of that blood was almost powerful enough to distract her from her lusts, from appreciating the male that continued to dominate her dreams.

But never did the memories give her what she really wanted. They always played out exactly how they had first happened, Silmeria going unfulfilled even in her mind. Frustration bloomed within her, Silmeria wanting to rip the clothes from Brahms' body. To reveal that dark skin, run her tongue over the lines of his many muscles. She wanted to take bites out of him, and it had nothing to do with feeding. She wanted to consume, to possess as badly as he wanted to claim her.

But no matter how badly Silmeria wanted, the dreams denied her. It was perhaps a fitting punishment, doing to her what she had done to him. Frustrated, she stirred enough to move restlessly in place. But she didn't rise from her sleep, the dreams still holding her fast. As if sensing her mounting agitation, they began going backwards, flashing to moments in time that had nothing to do with her life as a newly made vampire.

She experienced the moment he fed on her, the vampire's strong arms holding her to him. There had been possession in that embrace, one that overpowered any suggestion of tenderness in the moment. But Brahms had been aroused, wild and barely hanging on to his control. Her struggles hadn't helped matters, the pleasure of his bite turning to pain as she fought. 

A flash, and then a different memory came to her. It was one that had always puzzled her. It continued to do that now, to the point some of her lusts slipped away from her, allowing her to examine the memory in depth. And with her study, the memory became more focused, things springing into startling clarity. She saw tall golden stalks of grass, forming a shimmering sea that rippled in the wind. Mountains were in the distance, something that might very well be a dragon soaring about the peaks. Rocky outcroppings lay scattered on the plains, too much distance between them to provide suitable cover from one's enemies.

It was the back roads of Idavoll, much of this land untouched by the fighting that took up the main expense of the plains. Of the two forces that were so entrenched in the fighting, the Asgardians guarded the back roads almost zealously from the undead. There was reason for this. The roads led to many places, most notably the paradise where the retired warriors spent out their eternity. It was a paradise that deserved protecting, a paradise that would remain free of the taint of the undead. Even as it was being emptied out, the warriors being called upon to help in the battles.

Since coming to Asgard, Silmeria had not often had the chance to stray far from the battle field. She had of course been on a tour of the realm, all the Valkyries had. All in order to show them what they were fighting for, a memory meant for them to call upon in dire times, all to remind the battle maidens of their reason for continuing this war.

Never had Silmeria expected to walk those roads with the very enemy she was sworn to destroy. The very fiend who would ruthlessly feed upon the souls who had come to rest in paradise. And yet in that moment, she had been powerless. Her sword lost to her, her hands bound by a strong length of leather. The restraints had been tight, nearly cutting off her circulation. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break them, the leather enchanted against the Valkyrie's divine strength.

The confusion she had felt then, was strong even now. Back then Silmeria hadn't understood the motivations behind Brahms' actions. He might not have understood them himself, the vampire agitated by what he had done. It was strange to think of that powerful figure as nervous, but it had been apt description for his unease. Silmeria hadn't been much better, though she had refused to cower due to her upset.

But the unease had been strong in her, especially with Brahms at her back. He kept her moving. Anytime Silmeria tried to slow her pace, his hand would forcefully guide her forward. He was never so crude as to shove her to the ground, but he wasn't exactly gentle either. 

She bided her time, Silmeria always keeping an eye for an opportunity to escape him. It wouldn't come immediately, even with Brahms pausing constantly to eye the land for any signs of pursuit. It would be a while before the pair would come across either sides of the war, hours going by. Enough time that even Silmeria had tired of maintaining her silence.

"What do you hope to accomplish in doing this?" Silmeria had demanded. His hand had hesitated on her back, as though Brahms was surprised she had spoken to him. But he didn't offer any answers to her questions, his silence only cementing her suspicions that he was reacting on blind impulse. She hadn't known what those impulse were though, Silmeria not understanding why he hadn't fed from her.

There was power in a Valkyrie's blood. A power most vampires wouldn't have been able to resist. Brahms himself was notorious for having fed off several Valkryies during his long existence, that power making him flush with new strength and speed. If he had fed from Silmeria that day, Brahms would have had no trouble returning to his camp.

Silmeria hadn't understood what was holding him back. Any more than she had understood his reasons for coming to Valhalla. If he hadn't meant to kill her, or her King, then it made no sense why he would risk so much to set foot inside the castle. She had replayed the odd meeting in her mind, recalling how Brahms had knocked away her sword, and tried to hold her fast to him. 

He had touched her hair, and actually inhaled her scent. That had been as surprising as it was disturbing, Silmeria not knowing what to make of his actions. Hours would pass before Silmeria would even begin to suspect the true meaning behind his actions. She might even understand them before Brahms did, though it was a knowledge that wouldn't appease Silmeria of her tension.

But at this moment in the memory, there was only the confusion. Silmeria hadn't like the confusion, might have hated it more than the humiliation of being captured by her enemy. It left her on uncertain ground, Silmeria unsure of what she could expect from the vampire. She would even consider the idea that Brahms was toying with her, though why he would go to such lengths, even that she did not know.

But he had purposefully sought her out. Waited until she was alone. Silmeria hadn't been at her most vulnerable then, but here on the plains, with her hands bound behind her? She would be an all too easy target for Brahms to kill. And yet he never made a violent move towards her, dragging out what she perceived to be torture of a different kind. As if he wanted her to think about the death that might be coming, as if that would build up her fear, and make what he did to Silmeria all the sweeter for him. It was cruel, and she told him as much.

Her back had been to him, his hand keeping her from turning to look at Brahms. But Silmeria had heard the in drawn breath he took in response to her accusation. "Cruel?"

"Yes, cruel!" She had snapped insistently. "If you had any compassion, any sense of honor, you would end this now!" She had made a bitter sound then, near scoffing as she told him, "Oh but how could I forget? You undead have no compassion." 

He hadn't immediately rose to her baiting, his hand urging her forward once more. Silmeria had sneered, though the expression was wasted on him. "You're all unfeeling   
monsters!"

"You are wrong about that!" 

There had been anger in his voice, stern and disapproving. Silmeria hadn't flinched, practically laughing then. "Oh that's right. You do have some feelings. Ones mired in negativity, ones that inspired your kind to new heights of debauchery and killings!"

"We feel more than that!" Brahms had said, then snorted. "We certainly feel more than you Valkyrie!"

She had gasped then, affronted. "What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Cold and proud, the Valkyries find solace in nothing but the battle. You are without mercy to those who stand against your King, cutting down all who dare cross weapons with you. You are as fearless as you are unfeeling, a stagnant existence."

She had seethed with rage then, badly wishing her hands were free. If she could have, Silmeria would have struck him then. "You are wrong." She had said out loud. Silmeria had shook her head for good measure, as though that was proof against his claims. "We feel...we care..."

"What do you feel?" Brahms had challenged her. "Save for disgust and loathing of your enemies?!"

"That's not all I feel!" Her voice had burst out, more passionate than she had ever remembered hearing. "I know love..." He had snorted then. "I love my sisters...and they love me! The bond of my family is something you can never take from me, never diminish or destroy no matter your efforts!" She struggled against his grip, wanting to turn and face him in the moment. 

"It is that love that kept me quiet at the castle." Her gaze had locked with his, the instant he had allowed her to turn. "It is that same love that allows me to risk myself in order to allow my sisters to go on living. I would and HAVE done anything to spare them. Even if I must go to my grave at your hands, I will die satisfied that they live on."

"Even if their lives are extended only by a few more hours?" Brahms had asked. 

"My sacrifice would be worth it, even if it gave them only a few more minutes. Life is precious, especially theirs." Silmeria had retorted, the ring of truth to her words. "So vampire, do your worst. You will not make me regret my choice, you simply have no power over me in that regard."

"Keep moving." He had then ordered gruffly, hand pushing at her shoulder. Silmeria had turned in compliance, but didn't silence her voice.

"I suppose it is something you cannot hope to understand. This love I feel. The drive it gives me. It is strong, might possibly be the strongest force in the realms. Certainly it is stronger than any wickedness you could do."

"Such devotion is to be commended." He had murmured from behind her. "I hope your sisters truly recognize how fortunate they are, to have one such as you as their family."

"It is nothing that they would not do for me." Silmeria had told him. 

"If that is true, than it is admirable. But also a pity, for it makes you three weak to those who would capitalize on the opportunities that loves would give them."

"Love is never to be pitied." She had retorted. "It makes us strong in new ways, makes life worth living." 

"And yet you are weary." She had been startled at that, not understanding how he could make that deduction. "Oh don't try to pretend it's not true. I have seen your eyes Valkyrie. Seen the tired look in them."

"What would you know of it?" Silmeria had demanded.

"I have lived for a long time. Far longer than you. I have seen that kind of look in many eyes. It is a telling look, revealing more than a guarded soul would want." Brahms had explained. 

She was taken aback. "Oh?" She had asked then. "And what does that look tell you about me?"

He would turn quiet, considering his answer carefully. They would continue to walk, the back roads empty of all but their presence. Enough time would go by that Silmeria's doubts about what he said would continue, the Valkyrie ready to scoff and dismiss his claims.

"It tells me..." His voice had been a soft rumble, Brahms speaking as though he knew she would not like what he had to say. "You are tired of the endless fighting. Tired of eternity stretching out with no grander purpose in mind for you. You want to matter Valkyrie. And deep down you know so long as you remain Odin's soldier, you will not. None of you will."

Any snide remark she could have made had died in her throat. And all because the vampire had hit on private feelings that had often disturb her, whether she be on the battlefield, or alone in bed. It was frightening that a stranger could read the truth of her dissatisfaction. A dissatisfaction she hadn't even made known to her sisters, not even her dear Lenneth who might have understood better than Hrist ever could.

Silence would stretch between them, Brahms patient as he waited for her response. She couldn't give one to him immediately, her thoughts racing and wild. "This war will never end." She had finally said. Frustration bloomed in her words. "At least not while I am still live." Silmeria had been sure her life would be ended this night, her true purpose never found.

"Neither side is even close to a victory. The curtain will not close on this farce, not so long as the driving forces behind it still live." Brahms had said. "The Valkyies waste their eternity fighting." She hadn't been able to deny it, even as she knew that some more than others enjoyed the battle. Certainly her sisters preferred the fighting to the alternative, neither one wanting to be given away to some man.

"Valkyrie..." Brahms voice would interrupt her thoughts. "Have you not ever thought of throwing away your sword?" She might have gasped then, the thing he had asked practically sacrilegious to her. He would ask even worse things, Silmeria would shake her head in wild denial, even as a voice whispered temptations inside her. "Leaving the battle, turning your back on the fighting?"

"And what point would there be to that?" Silmeria has asked, tone defiant.

"You would be able to find some reason to live. A reason to be HAPPY. A reason to be satisfied with your life!" His voice had risen with each word, frustration blooming in his harsh shout. She hadn't understood why he would even care, or why he would waste time on asking her these things when he surely intended to kill her before the night was through.

"Odin would NEVER allow it." It wasn't a true answer to his question, Silmeria avoiding the traitorous impulse that whispered to her their agreement of Brahms' suggestions. "As long as I can fight, as long as I am able, my place is here in Asgard." She had paused a moment, then turned to look at him. "It might be different if your kind would call a ceasefire to this war..."

"That is another thing Odin would never allow." Brahms had told her. "You know as well as I that he will not be content until every last vampire is wiped out of existence. And my people? My people will not make it easy for him to do that. We will not lay down and go quietly to our extermination."

She would not go quietly either, Silmeria staring at him a long moment. His crimson eyes had bored into her, Brahms seeming almost as weary as he had accused Silmeria of being. She had wondered then if he had a purpose beyond the near mindless killing the undead so enjoyed doing. Wondered if he fought for more than the prevention of wiping out all remnants of his kind.

Abruptly she had turned, not liking that she had these thoughts. He was causing her to doubt, to make her wonder if there was something beyond the undead's joy of killing any and all they came across. Never had she thought in terms of them fighting for their own survival. And never had she thought they might have a right to cling to their pathetic existence.

He stirred in her the kind of doubts that might earn her punishment from Lord Odin. Even worse, the doubts might make her clumsy, vulnerable even as she fought the undead. Silmeria couldn't afford to think of them as anything but monsters, could never allow herself to think of the vampires as a separate entity from the other creatures that made up the undead ranks.

The mountains were still far in the distance. They had made little progress pausing like this to talk. Brahms hand would touch her once more, urging her to move forward once more. Silmeria didn't want to. He could kill her now for all she cared. It would be preferable to bringing her back to his camp, and allowing many of the undead to feed off her blood and flesh.

"Silmeria!" Brahms would actually growl out her name, impatience the chief emotion in his tone. She had been holding her ground, refusing to take even one step further.

"No. I will not go any further." She had announced. "You will just have to kill me now." Silmeria had prepared herself for the blow that would follow that announcement, expecting him to sink his fangs viciously into her neck. Both his hands would grab her bound arms, claws digging into her delicate skin. She had thought he was holding her still for his bite, but it never came. Instead his voice rasped in her ear, low, dangerous, and ever so enraged.

"You little fool." 

Silmeria hadn't bothered to be outraged. Instead she would take advantage of his nearness to drive herself back. Her head would slam into his face, Brahms letting out grunt of pain. She thought she heard the crunch of bones, Silmeria wondering if she had broken his nose. But even as she wondered that, she was bringing down her metal encased feet, stamping on both of his.

Brahms' grip would loosen, Silmeria wresting free and turning. Her leg would lash out, foot high enough to catch him in the face. He fell back from her, and she didn't pursue the attack. Not with her hands bound by enchanted restraints, and having no sword to take his head. 

Growling, he had a hand over his face, fingers feeling for the damage she had done. Silmeria's assessment would take only a moment, and then she was running from him. He would scream, sounding further enraged.

"Valkyrie!"

But there had been little chance of Silmeria stopping. Silmeria had been sure she heard her death in his voice, the battle maiden running even faster. Pity for her it was in the wrong direction, her flight taking her further from Valhalla. But a most formidable foe had stood between her and the path that led back to the castle. And unlike Silmeria, Brahms had no need of a sword to kill her.

The tall stacks of grass would brush against her waist, Silmeria running without pausing to look over her shoulders. She hadn't a chance of getting away, even with the spells that blocked his teleportation ability. But that hadn't really been her reason for attacking him. She had simply been tired of delaying her death, in second guessing when and how he would deliver the final blow. A part of her was just mad, wanting to make it a struggle before he killed her. 

She would hear the footsteps behind her, the grass stirring with Brahms' charge. He had recovered enough to give chase, and it would be by a large outcropping of rocks that he would catch her. 

Silmeria wouldn't quite scream, feeling his hands grab her by the arms. Their forward momentum would drive them towards the rocks, Silmeria realizing she was about to slam face first in them. Would being knocked unconscious be a mercy or a curse?

At the last possible second, Brahms flipped her to face him. It didn't stop them from hitting the largest of the rock formations, Silmeria's voice being forced out of her with a cry. Her back throbbed with pain, her armor had not been enough to cushion her against the stone. She could remember feeling humiliated that she had given that cry, her anger manifesting in a glare.

He had been glaring too, lips curled back in a snarl. She could see his fangs, and they were long and glistening like pearl. Silmeria had thought she had finally succeeded in driving him to bite her, but she hadn't closed her eyes, wanting to face death head on. A part of her had been scared, but that fear was swallowed by the defiance she had felt.

The moment he had pinned her, she had gone still, not even attempt to squirm free. What was the point, when he was so much stronger than her? She had known then and there that there was nothing left for her to try. The vampire would have her, and the only victory she could take from the feeding was that she had forced his hand earlier than he had intended.

"Why do you not struggle more?" He had demanded in a low, raspy voice.

"There is no point. You have me effectively pinned." She had retorted. "It will not delay anything, and will only succeed in making your bite hurt more."

"What do you know of my bite?" He had demanded. 

"I know it is nothing to be savored." She had retorted, and he had growled, affronted.

"I can make it pleasurable for you."

"I prefer you do not." She had hissed then, mortified at the thought. That would be the ultimate humiliation, to go to her death and enjoy it!

"Brave little Valkyrie, so determined to die this night." He had been pressed against her body, seeming unbothered by her armor. 

"If I must die, then it is better to have guided how it will happen." She had retorted, watching as he leaned his face towards her neck. Silmeria had been pleased that she hadn't stiffened, not in fear or anger. She would be brave, and do the Valkyries honor with the valiant way she died.

But Brahms didn't immediately sink his fangs into her, seeming content to breathe in her scent. Silmeria had wondered if he could smell the blood in her veins, wondered if he could hear the quickening of her pulse. And then he did something most surprising, Brahms actually nuzzling the flesh between her neck and shoulder. It had startled Silmeria enough to gasp, that betraying sound drawing Brahms upright.

His expression had been nothing she had expected, Brahms as disturbed by what he had done as Silmeria had been. His confusion had been chasing away some of his previous anger, though the crimson had still flared with it. She couldn't say her expression was any less confused, Silmeria staring at him with her breath held. It would expel with her question.

"Just why did you come to the castle?"

"My reasons are my own." His answer had of course told her nothing of what she wanted to understand.

"Whatever those reasons are, you took a great chance." Silmeria had pointed out. She saw then that he had known that, something like embarrassment washing over his face. But his flustered state was brief, his answers had been no more forthcoming than before. It was then that she had remembered Brahms admitting his purpose that night had been to see her. She had assumed his intent had been to kill her, but now she was no longer so certain.

"Just what do you want from me?" She had asked, her cry frustrated, near helpless from not understanding his motivations. Even worse, he wouldn't answer, not with words. But his gaze would focus, locking onto her lips. Studying them as though they held a great fascination for him. She had come away with the feeling he wanted to KISS her. And that had confused her most of all. 

Brahms would continue his staring, and in reaction she had nervously licked her lips. His eyes had seemed to catch fire then, as though he had liked seeing her tongue's uncertain movement. Silmeria still had not understood any of what he was doing, or what he might be feeling. Nor had she any experience with being a person desired for more than her blood, or skill on the battlefield.

She had been a complete innocent then. No experience to her name. Never had she dallied with a man, Silmeria having devoted her life early on to becoming the perfect solider for Lord Odin. She had been fighting since she was fourteen years of age, having no time for the things mortal girls would have had experience with. There had been no boys her own age that had tried to court her, none would have dared, knowing she was a Goddess chosen by Odin.

She had missed out on so much of the things that would be normal for other girls. And for the longest time Silmeria hadn't missed those lost experiences. But as her dissatisfaction with the fighting continued, Silmeria had started to want things. To yearn for that which she had no name. She had even come to the private understanding that perhaps being given to a man would not be the horrible fate the other Valkyries envisioned.

But Silmeria had never expected that her first real experience with being desired would come at the hands of a vampire. Especially this vampire in particular. Brahms was everything a Valkyrie should have feared, a ruthless killer of her own kind. And yet he had physical qualities a Valkyrie could also appreciate, being strong, fast and agile, skilled in fighting. 

Nor was Brahms hard on the eyes, being of pleasing face and form. Silmeria might even have deigned to admit to herself he was attractive, though she would have gone to her death denying it to him and her sisters.

And with that acknowledgment of his appeal, she began to notice other things about him. Most particularly his nearness, his body positioned between her spread legs. There was no armor between them there, his groin touching hers through the protection of her dress' skirt. It was a vulnerable position to be in, and any intrigue she might have felt was superseded by her wariness. 

Blood she had then realized, was not the only thing he could take from her this night. And yet she wasn't nearly as frightened as she should be, Silmeria actually staring at Brahms' mouth rather than try to get free. And with that staring, she had realized how full and sensual his mouth was, even with the fangs pressing into the bottom lip. She had even taken a second to wonder what it would be like to be kissed, and her fancies had not allowed her to imagine any other man but Brahms doing the deed.

It was unfortunate, but the vampire noticed her new reactions to him. That sensual mouth curved into a smile, his voice coming out husky as Brahms spoke. "Perhaps the Valkyrie can feel something after all...."

"I told you." She had whispered. "I feel."

"Yes, I remember. You love your sisters...."

"I do...I..." She had trailed off then, having seen the way he leaned in closer. His warm breath caressed over her lips, Silmeria realizing then he really was going to kiss her. She had known then she wasn't going to fight him, even as Silmeria knew she shouldn't have allowed it. But she had had the thought, that if she was going to die that night, Silmeria would at least go to her grave having experienced a kiss.

It would be one less regret to have, even if it was her murderer that bestowed the experience on her. And it was an experience, Silmeria gasping at the sweet pressure of his mouth on hers. She had expected him to be cold, but his lips held a fiery warmth to them. It felt as though his kiss scalded her, but there was no pain with that burning.

His mouth lingered in place, Silmeria analyzing everything about the way he had kissed her. The way he seamlessly fit their mouths together, the vampire eating up her sounds. There was hunger in that kiss, one that had nothing to do with a vampire's need for blood. Brahms had hungered for her, for the taste of her mouth, the pressure growing stronger as he made a demand. 

She hadn't known how to kiss, but she had melted just a little beneath him. Her lips had softened, yielding to the pressure of his mouth. Brahms had been ready to take any offering she gave him, the kiss becoming open mouthed as his tongue swept inside her. The play of his tongue against hers had startled Silmeria, the Valkyrie never realizing a kiss held so much more than just touching lips to another.

Her blood boiled with the kiss, Silmeria aware of her body in ways she had never noticed before. Her heart beat seemed to thunder in her ears, her pulse going too fast. She thought then he was the devil, seducing her so sweetly, so thoroughly with his mouth. And then she felt the hardness of his groin, pressing against her own sex. Sweet Freya she had thought amazed, marveling at his own powerful reaction to their kiss. 

It had been amazing, but it had also been frightening, Silmeria not ready for such an experience. A kiss had been one thing, sweetly arousing temptation, a memory she could hold to her even as she died. But she hadn't been ready to go any further, nor did Silmeria want Brahms to think he could just take anything he desired, especially from a Valkyrie.

But it had been so difficult to break the kiss, to give up the sensations his mouth and tongue were giving her. She might have moaned then, the tiniest of sounds that made her come off as helpless. But she wasn't, Silmeria using her teeth to snap at his tongue. She hadn't bled him, thank God, but the attempt had been enough to get Brahms to pull back.

His eyes had been dilated, Brahms looking almost blind with arousal. Silmeria had wondered what kind of expression she had shown him, though the Valkyrie had tried for anger. "That was a mistake." She had said, though something in her had protested. It hadn't FELT like a mistake, the kiss exciting, resonating deep within her. But that rightness had her rebelling, Silmeria hadn't wanted the vampire to think she had enjoyed it.

"A mistake." Brahms had repeated, as though he was in agreement. Disappointment had flared within her, growing stronger when he stepped back. She nearly fell to her knees, so shaky had she been without his body to support hers. 

"We waste time." Brahms had continued, glancing up at the sky. She hadn't looked up, still staring at him, at his mouth in particular. She had actually wanted another kiss, had yearned for it with every fiber of her being. "Come." Brahms would pull her along by her bound arms, dragging her along the road. He would not speak to her again, nor would Silmeria try to engage him in conversation. She was too busy dealing with her startling reactions to him, and the way he had made her feel as Brahms had pressed his lips to hers.

How much longer they would continue that way, she could not say. But they would encounter his army almost at the exact moment the Asgardians arrived. She could remember how Brahms had swore, seeming more agitated then ever. Silmeria had expected him to seize her neck as the two opposing forces drew near, but he hadn't. Instead his claws had slashed through her restraints, Brahms then shoving her in the direction of the Asgardians.

"I don't understand you!" But Silmeria hadn't truly meant it when she cried that out. A niggling suggestion had made itself known to her, Silmeria thinking the vampire might be attracted to her.

"Go!" He had growled at her, making a show of trying to attack her with his claws. She had leapt back on instinct, throwing her arms up for protection ."Go, and know this is not over between us!"

Brahms had meant it too. He might not have understood the fascination she held for him, might not have realized that he was attracted to her. But he would soon! And with that realization, an obsession would be born, Brahms pursuing her relentlessly across the battlefield. But that pursuit would not begin that night, not with the vampire so at war with his own feelings.

Silmeria had not been any better, confused over how the vampire could have come to desire her. Silmeria had felt she had done nothing to merit such attraction, to encourage such obsessive devotion. It would be a long time before the answer would come to her, Silmeria realizing at this very moment what must have happened. The vampire had recognized her for what she was, and it had nothing to do with being a Valkyrie and his enemy. The primal part of him, the part based on instinct and impulses had acknowledge her as his mate.

Just as the primal part of Silmeria had done the same, the vampire inside her recognizing Brahms as belonging to her. But she wasn't completely happy with that realization, Silmeria gasping as she broke through the dreams and slipped out of sleep. Her eyes immediately looked towards the vampire that sat near her bed, Brahms wearing a pensive look as he stared at her.

Immediately she flushed with embarrassment, Silmeria sure she was blushing. It was the first real blush she had ever given a man, Silmeria unused to the warmth filling her face. She wanted to lower her eyes, finding it painful to look at him. And all because she was remembering everything that had happened in the moments leading up to her forced sleep. 

She remembered how fiercely she had wanted him, how Silmeria had desired he claim her then and there. She remembered how he had reacted to her, how he had kissed her and touched her, and rubbed his erection between her legs. The recollection both made her want to moan, and cry out, Silmeria bringing her hands up to cover her face. But she couldn't hide from herself, Silmeria starting to tremble and scrabbling desperately for some kind of emotion that had nothing to do with lust or embarrassment.

It wasn't so easy to turn to anger. But she made the effort, calling to mind the vampiress Surren. Remembering the way the woman had talked to her, baited her, and the way she had hungered for Lenneth's death. Little by little, Silmeria remembered the events that followed, the way she had attacked Surren. The fight that had broken out, extending beyond the two females to involve nearly everyone in the ball room.

Worst of all, Silmeria remembered how effortless it had been for her to fend off her attackers. How easy it had been to give in to her rage, and go so mindless she no longer recognized anyone but her mate. But she refused to dwell on the calming influence Brahms had proven to be, instead lowering her hands and asking the question that weighed so heavily on her mind.

"Just what have you created in making me into one of your own kind?!"

He didn't answer immediately, Silmeria locking her anxious, accusing gaze on him. "I am strong." She stated. "Fast....I react as though I have been a vampire for years, moving with the practiced ease of an elder. That is not natural...NONE of this is natural. What happened in the ball room...I...I should have been killed."

"You are different it is true." Brahms said at last. "You might be even more advanced than the elders."

"Stronger than you even?"

A faint flicker of a smile then. "I doubt it."

"Why has this happened?" She asked. "Is it because I was a Valkyrie?"

A quick nod from him. "Yes, I believe that is why."

"You believe? That means you are not sure?" 

"There's never been a Valkyrie converted." Brahms told her. "There might be no limit to your powers."

"I am an abomination." Her tone was flat to hide the sudden despair that filled her. "I am something that should have never been created.."

"Don't say that!" he snapped harshly at her.

"It's the truth!" She retorted hotly. "You saw what I did in the ball room, what I did to your people." She hesitated then. "Did I kill anyone?"

"No. Mercifully you did not." She couldn't be relieved then, still remembering the angry rage that had filled her, the needs in her commanding Silmeria to fight, to tear apart anyone in range. True her targets had been vampires, but the way she had gone near mindless with the need to kill scared her. Almost as much as the thought of such rage repeating. 

"But you hurt many." Brahms continued. "One of the guards has lost an eye. Not even blood will heal that injury."

"Blood..." She whispered, realizing something. "The vampires I injured...they will have to feed to heal."

"Yes." Silmeria made a dismayed sound at his confirmation, having never wanted to be the cause for the vampires to go after mortals. "We barely have enough donors in the castle." Brahms added. "We will be hard pressed to find more in the coming days..."

"The vampires will leave the island won't they?" Fear laced her words then. "To feed on the people of Midgard. And it will be all my fault!" 

In an instant Brahms had left his seat, joining her on the bed. His hands went to touch her, something that might be pity in his eyes. She didn't want him touching her, didn't want his empathy, Silmeria trying to struggle free. "Silmeria....it won't be a blood bath. The vampires will only take what they need to heal, to replenish their strength."

"They will still feed, still make victims out of the mortals!"

"Not all who are fed on are unwilling." Brahms pointed out. 

"I don't believe that." She told him. "Why would anyone submit to such a thing?" But then she remembered how good his bite had felt, at least while she hadn't struggled. And the memory made her blush anew, Silmeria averting her eyes from Brahms.

"I think you need to talk to the mortals who live in the castle. Talk to and get their stories. Learn just why they are have tasked themselves with the work of feeding the vampires."

"As if I could ever trust what they say!" Silmeria exclaimed. 

"Why would you doubt?"

"Your kind has fed on them. They are tainted. And even if they haven't been compelled to lie, fear alone might get them to say what you want me to hear." She was sure of her explanation.

"We have done no such thing." Brahms told her. "And you would know that if you would feed."

"I won't feed. Not on them, not on anyone!" She was adamant in the moment, even as her turmoil made the hunger all the worse.

"Your time is running out Silmeria." Brahms warned her. "There will come a time when you HAVE to feed."

She shivered in response, Silmeria knowing there was truth in his words. She would have   
to take blood, and soon, her protests be damned. Or else what happened in the ball room, would be magnified, a million times worse as she truly became a mindless revenant. Would any of the vampires being able to stop her then? Brahms might, but only if he really was stronger than she. 

A choice was coming, faster than she would have liked. She would have to feed or become revenant, might not have the luxury to wait for her sisters to come kill her. Nor could she afford to become a revenant around them, Silmeria realizing she might have to feed if only to protect her sisters from herself. Lenneth and Hrist would be horrified, but not half as much as they would be if she appeared before them mindless.

And still she despised the choices forced on her. She might even despise Brahms, even as a part of her lusted for him. A different part wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he hadn't killed her that night on Idavoll. Certainly none of this would have happened if they hadn't kissed. But their fates had been sealed, intertwined just as easily as the pressing together of their lips. Life would continue, her destiny being played out, Silmeria unable to do anything but be swept along it's path.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	21. Twenty One

Brahms had been impatient as he waited for Silmeria to awaken. His blood had been stirred up, his emotions in turmoil. Not even feeding had managed to bring him down from the anxieties and lusts Silmeria had awakened within him. The feelings he experienced, were at war with each other. Brahms was fighting his disappointments, as well as his hopes, the vampire remembering how Silmeria had approached him in the ball room.

Wild looking but beautiful, she had been a captivating sight. Especially when she had smile at him, something inside him stopping in response to the twist of Silmeria's lips. Even before she had smiled, her actions had been enough to get Brahms' pulse pounding. He remembered how she had willingly touched him, not to push him away but to savor the feel of his body beneath her hands. Those hands her been appreciative, the look in Silmeria's eyes admiring. She had not been fighting her attraction to him, openly accepting it and him.

He had not been able to resist her. Not completely. And so he had kissed her, the kiss something Silmeria had wanted as much as Brahms. Or at least a part of her had wanted it. Brahms had never lost sight of the fact that Silmeria wasn't entirely there in the room with him, her mind having shut down so that she reacted only on primal impulses. She fought when angered, and she loved when aroused.

And Silmeria had been more than just aroused, she had been reacting with open wanting. Desiring him, demanding he give in to her. Brahms had wanted to do just that, even as his own instincts demanded he take control of the situation. To master her, and make it that Silmeria never forgot just who it was that embraced her. But it was not meant to be, not so long as Silmeria had reverted to something that wasn't entirely able to give her permission to that which he had wanted from her.

Knowing that, Brahms had forced himself to stop. But not before he had thoroughly shamed himself by grinding against her, and kissing her breathless. He wasn't a saint, he hadn't been able to resist Silmeria completely. He had needed to steal those moments, to take something to soothe the beast inside him. But now he wondered if he hadn't done more damage to himself, Brahms' feelings spiraling out of control. 

The feeding hadn't managed to soothe his lusts completely. It was a problem only compounded by the fact Silmeria had been aroused while sleeping. He had seen the reactions in her, scented the arousal coming off her. He wasn't privy to what she dreamt about, but it had taken a long time for her to calm down even a fraction. Enough time that his own tension grew, Brahms seating himself in a chair close to the bed.

He had of course meant to remain there during their talks. To remain as cool and detached as he could manage. But at the first sign of Silmeria's distress, Brahms had vacated his seat, ending up in the bed with her. Not that Silmeria took any comfort from his touch, the girl struggling against him. He tried not to focus on how good it felt to have Silmeria moving like that in his arms, but part of him had been stirred.

It was easier to not give in to his attraction to her, when their talk had been so obviously distressing to Silmeria. She hadn't liked hearing that her actions in the ball room would lead to the vampires going elsewhere for sustenance. She feared a blood bath, and no amount of reassurance from Brahms could convince Silmeria that that would not happen. Nor could he offer her comfort in the fact that she would need to feed, and soon. Brahms estimated that at most, she might hold out for another two nights. And those two nights would be pushing it.

Silmeria had to feed before time ran out. Before her systems started to shut down, her mind being irrevocably damaged. If she went truly mindless, became a revenant, there would be nothing left for her. No matter how often and how much she fed, Silmeria would never know an end to her thirst. It would be a meaningless existence, the girl driven to attack any and everyone, even her own kind. Even worse, Brahms might be the only one who would have a hope of putting an end to a revenant of Silmeria's power.

Not that Brahms would ever allow the situation to get that bad. If it came down to it, he would force her to feed. Brahms would use the same compulsion that had forced Silmeria to sleep, to make her drink the blood she so desperately needed to nourish her. But he didn't want to have to do it. And all because he knew Silmeria would only see it as a violation. Another freedom he had taken from her.

He felt a little guilty about using the compulsion to make his bride sleep. But when considering the alternatives, and the way she would have reacted if he had allowed them to become lovers, Brahms knew he had made the right choice. Brahms wasn't even sure if Silmeria knew that he was the one responsible for her sleep. She certainly hadn't snapped at him, but then she hadn't been forthcoming about what had happened in the ball room aside from the slaughter she had attempted to do.

He probably shouldn't push her about the ball room, especially the part where they had fallen on each other like love starved animals. But he need to talk to her about what happened, about all of it. That included the bits that might make her embarrassed or angry. Brahms had already had a taste of her embarrassment, Silmeria reacting in that surprising way when she had first awakened. It had led to her blushing, the girl darting her glance away from him.

He tried not to muse on how lovely she looked with that bit of color on her cheeks. He couldn't be distracted by his attraction to her. Not when he had to be stern and disapproving of what she had done. 

"Silmeria." He had to repeat her name, the former Valkyrie's eyes distant, his bride lost to her own thoughts. But at last she looked at him, truly seeing him then. "What happened in the ball room. It cannot be repeated." His own voice was stern, like a parent ready to dole out punishments. "Do you understand me? What you did? It was nearly unforgivable."

"I...I didn't mean too..." She began, then shook her head. "I just...I...I wanted her to stop. To be silent!"

"Surren?" He questioned, and she nodded.

"She said terrible things..."

"Surren has always had a sharp tongue...and doesn't always refrain from using it." Brahms grumbled. "That's still no reason to stir my vampires into a frenzy of blood lust and paranoia!"

She didn't flinch, didn't look away. In fact, Silmeria almost looked defiant in the moment. "You weren't there!" She exclaimed. "You weren't there to hear the things she was saying, the things she said should have been done to Lenneth!"

"No, I was not there." He agreed. "But you had made a promise to me. A promise not to attack anyone unless they attacked you first."

"But I was under attack!" Silmeria protested. "Surren..."

"Surren did nothing but speak to you. Crude and malicious yes, but she would not have raised a hand to you first!" Brahms snapped. "You broke your promise to me...you've made me look like a fool in front of our people for trusting you to behave!"

"If you are a fool, it is of your own making!" Silmeria's retort earned an angry growl from him. She seemed to pale to hear it, Silmeria realizing she had gone too far this night.

"You've jeopardized much." Brahms said when he was able to speak without snarling at her. "I have so many plans. Plans that extend beyond you and me, towards my kingdom. Our kingdom."

"I have no desire to rule as your queen." She managed to protest.

"No, you have no ambition to do anything but lay down and die at your sisters' hands." Brahms grumbled, his words a crude hurt. "Many of the vampires present for your...display tonight, would be all for that plan of yours. They would welcome the chance to have the threat of you removed. And it has nothing to do with you once being their enemy."

"I am still their enemy." She lifted her head up, stubborn and proud in the moment. "Tonight has proven it."

"Tonight has proven many things...whether you remain their enemy or not is still up to debate. But Silmeria, you frighten them." Brahms told her.

"Good! They SHOULD be frightened!" She exclaimed, and held up her hands. Her nails had not reverted from their claws state, but the blood that had dried there was gone. Brahms himself had personally seen to cleaning them, knowing the blood would only serve to distress his bride. "I am a monster. I am something that is even worse than a vampire...I am a creature that is beyond their equal....I remember what happened in the ball room. How effortlessly it was for me to injure and maim. They wouldn't have been able to stop me.."

"But I did." He quickly reminded her. She flushed anew, and quickly looked away, her hands lowering to her lap. It was apparent Silmeria did not want to be reminded about just what had happened after she had settled down from her rage. "And I will always be here. To stop you from getting out of control!"

"I don't need a keeper!" Silmeria snapped out angrily. He touched her face, forcing her chin to lift so he could see her eyes. The blue flashed with her defiant anger, Silmeria sullen as she looked at him.

"Right now, you do need one. If you get that out of control just from a few words, I shudder to think what you would do if provoked for real." Her expression only turned more angry. "Silmeria...we will have much work to do. Our people are fearful of you. They neither trust nor like you at the moment. To rule over them, you will have to work to gain back their trust, to win their favor. You will need that support...you will need to make allies, people you can trust."

"I cannot trust the undead! And I've already told you I don't want to rule as Queen!" 

"You feel that way now." Brahms agreed. "But feelings can change. And when you come to accept the gift I have given you..."

"It's a curse, not a gift!" Silmeria interrupted.

"When you come to accept it..." He continued. "You will want more out of life than merely being my wife. You were a Valkyrie, a commander of Odin's armies. You will want similar power...you may even enjoy the politics of ruling."

"That will never happen. I was never meant to be a queen, let alone the ruler of the vampires!" 

"We can't always predict what our ultimate fates will be." Brahms told her. "But I know enough to see you are not ready to accept this role I would give to you. For now we must work on making amends..."

"I'm not going to apologize. Especially not to Surren!" Silmeria warned.

"I can make excuses for you, but only for so long. A time will come when you have to look back on your behavior, and repent."

"That will never happen!" She insisted. "There are things I have done tonight, things that have frightened me as much as I have frightened your vampires. There are even things I regret, such as my loss of control...But I will never apologize. Your vampires are my enemy, and I am theirs. Tonight served well to remind us all of that!"

It was truly aggravating, this insistence of Silmeria's to remain as nothing more than an enemy of the vampires. But it was nothing he hadn't seen before, with countless fledglings. Those who were forced into the vampire lifestyle, often resisted the changes brought upon them. Sometimes to the point of welcoming death, going out to meet the sun. Brahms could well remember seeing the charred remains of those foolish enough to end their existence this way. The memories hurt, but made him all the more determined to keep Silmeria from reaching a similar end. 

"You are not the first fledgling to hate what she has become." Brahms spoke out loud. "Nor will you be the last. Not so long as the war takes from us our choices when it comes to choosing who to gift with our kiss."

"What does that mean? What does the war have to do with any of this?!" Silmeria demanded. 

"Simply this. If we vampires had a choice, we would limit ourselves to only turning those who want to be turned." She made a scoffing sound, surely not believing any would be so willing to be turned into a vampire. "But the war dwindles down our soldiers. And unlike Odin, we have no consistent way of gaining new warriors for our cause."

"Odin? You would dare bring him into this?!"

"I dare because it's the truth!" snapped Brahms. "Odin keeps the war going. And not just the war with the vampires. Have you never questioned why he doesn't put an end to the many wars fought on Midgard? Well, I'll tell you why! It's because no matter who wins, he gains the souls of the fallen warriors. Those souls he uses to line his own armies, to continue to wage war with us and any other who would dare stand against him."

"Not many would dare." Silmeria pointed out. "If the undead didn't plague him so, Odin would have no need to make use of the einherjar. Or the Valkyies."

"The undead are not the only enemy Odin has. Hel would be all too glad to take from him, his wealth and holdings."

"Hmph, Hel." She sneered. "Hel is weak. She and her armies are no match for my King."

"Hel may be weak, it's true. But she is not stupid." Brahms told her. "She has had years to bide her time, to plot and scheme, to study for Odin's weaknesses. And above all, to build up her armies. The time is coming, when she won't always be the loser in their confrontations."

"You almost sound as if you admire her!" Silmeria muttered accusingly. 

"Hel and I have had a long association." Brahms did not quite chuckle. "Enough of a relationship to have seen sides of each other that many others don't."

"Why don't you take up with her instead of me?" Silmeria demanded, and Brahms really had to fight to keep from grinning. Silmeria had sounded angry when she said that, as though an irrational part of her had awakened to jealousy. 

"The dark Goddess and I...we would not be a good match."

"Neither would a vampire and a Valkyrie, and still that did not stop you from pursuing me!" Silmeria was quick to point out, blue eyes blazing. "Really Brahms, you would do far better to choose someone of your own kind. Like...Surren..." She spat out the name. "Or that pretty redhead. Riana was her name?"

"Risana." Brahms corrected, though he knew she had gotten the name wrong on purpose. "And as far as matches go, I could do worse than those two. But..." He paused, giving her a meaningful look. "It is not they who captivate my attention. It is not they who stir my emotions, it is not they who move me to do things, take foolish risks on the off chance of gaining love...."

"You waste your time if you think to get anything of value from me!" She quickly retorted, expression haughty. "You waste my time too...all on deluded hopes and dreams."

"It's not as deluded as you would want it to be." Brahms told her, watching as her eyes narrowed.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!"

"You know." Brahms breathed out. She shook her head, trying to deny it. But he would have none of it. "Anger and blood lust wasn't the only things you felt this night. It wasn't the only thing stirred out of your control in the ball room this evening."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Silmeria had averted her eyes, lips flattening out to a thin, disapproving line.

"You can try to deny it all you want, but it happened. I was there to witness it, and so were you." Hel, even the vampires out in the hall had been present to hear what was going on, though Brahms wouldn't admit that to Silmeria. "You felt for me Silmeria. You felt an attrac..."

"NO!" She snapped out, voice loud with her denial. "NO! I felt nothing but anger, nothing but the need to rip apart anyone who came in reach!"

"Then why did you calm down the instant I stepped into the room?" Brahms demanded. "Silmeria, you felt it, the energy between us. The connection."

"No." Her voice was softer this time, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. 

"You can try to deny it all you want, but it doesn't change what happened. Silmeria, you were attracted to me. You wanted me. As much as I wanted you, if not more!"

"That wasn't me." She whispered, her cheeks turning an angry red. "That couldn't have been...that was...that was..."

"Was what?" He demanded, voice just as soft as hers. She shrugged, still not looking at him. "Silmeria, there is an attraction there. And it is not as one sided as you want to believe." 

"No, I'm not like that! I'm not...not the type to...to..." Silmeria shook her head, as though what she wanted to say was to horrific to contemplate.

"Was it that bad?" Brahms asked. He was curious, but also knew her answer had the potential to hurt him. "Feeling that way?"

"It was a loss of control." That was all it seemed she would admit to, Silmeria closing her eyes. "I...I never...would never..." She opened them, looking at him, upset and dismayed. "I don't just kiss men. I don't throw myself at them!"

"Ah...but...I am not just any man. I am yours." That earned him a frown, Silmeria once again shaking her head. "You have to know that is true. You recognized me as yours in the ball room. You were all too ready to stake your claim on me, make me yours in all the ways that matter."

Brahms thought she might turned embarrassed at that, but the heat in her eyes spoke of anger stirred. Her fists tightened on her lap, the color draining from her knuckles in the process. "I remember you kissed me." Silmeria spoke accusingly, glaring at him.

"Only because you kissed me first." He countered, amused as her temper flared.

"You did more than just kiss me!" She exclaimed. "You took advantage! You pinned me to a wall, and you...you did an unspeakable act..." 

"It is true I did all of that...you are a difficult temptation to resist." Brahms said. "But..." He did not look away, holding her gaze as he made his point. "You'll also remember I stopped."

"Yes...and I...I thank you for that bit of restraint." It was a grudging bit of gratitude, but it was thanks all the same. She hesitated long enough for Brahms to nod in acknowledgment of her words, then curiosity crept into her voice. "Why DID you stop?"

"Why?"

"You had me right where you wanted me. Willing, even eager." It hurt her to admit that part. Brahms could do no less than to speak honestly.

"Believe me, if I thought it right, I would have continued what you had started. But I was quick to realize you were not in your right state of mind. You had not gone to that mindless state of a revenant, but you were close."

"Close..." Silmeria echoed, dismayed.

"Very close." He stressed. "You were driven only by instincts and impulses. My vampires can only thank the stars that those impulses recognized me and turns aside your anger to lusts. As for why I stopped, it's simple. It would have been wrong to take you in that state." She blinked, surprised by his answer. "I know you don't believe we vampires have a strong sense of right and wrong, but it's true. I will not force myself on you that way, will not take from you until you invite me near, your head clear and your heart certain of what you want."

"You should have taken me then." Silmeria said, her bold words taking Brahms by surprise. "Because vampire? That was your only chance to have me!"

The conviction in her eyes disturbed him, Brahms sliding off the bed. Shaken, he stared at her, trying to hide his unease. "We shall see whether or not you are right about that." 

Silmeria said nothing in response, just continued to stare at him in that unnerving way. It was a difficult look to face, Silmeria seeming unshakable in her belief. "I will see you tomorrow." He told her, backing towards the room's door. Silmeria didn't even inquire as to why he was leaving her when there was still some time before the sun rose. But he couldn't stand to be there any longer, to endure her looks and her silence. He was all but fleeing the room, but outside it there was no relief.

The sole comfort Brahms took was the fact that there was no one out in the hall to bear witness to how shaken he was. Many of his vampires had gone off the island, teleporting to nearby cities to seek out nourishment. This was more important than ever, what with the threat of the Valkyrie hunting party looming near. It was invasion their island home was facing, and his people needed to be at their full strength for the battle they would take part in.

At this current time, there was several hundred vampires who were on leave from the war taking place in Asgard. That was in addition to the various undead monsters that roamed the island. Gideon hadn't been able to give Brahms any concrete numbering on just how large a party the invaders made up, but both vampires hoped they were strong enough in numbers to repel the Valkyrie.

The vampires who hadn't needed to leave the island to feed were busy elsewhere. They were fortifying defenses, setting traps, and preparing attacks. The Valkyrie and their einherjar would not find it easy to set even one foot on the island. Already the few mages they possessed, were stirring spells. They were targeting the weather, summoning up a storm to disrupt the ocean that surrounded the island. The boats the Valkyrie rode on would have a difficult time getting close enough to land. But it was a delaying tactic only. Eventually they would arrive, and then the fighting would begin in earnest.

Brahms was determined not to lose. Neither his own life, or that of Silmeria's. He'd do whatever it took to win, to keep Silmeria in his possession. Even if he had to spill Valkyrie blood to do it. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	22. Twenty Two

There had been a few noteworthy absences from dinner that evening. Neither Lenneth nor Mystina had deigned to put in an appearance in the dining room, their seats noticeably empty amidst the group that crowded in at the master's table. No one thought much to speculate on the reasons why neither woman had shown for dinner, though there had been the worry that the two were off somewhere fighting.

Lezard had been quick to put an end to such a worry, sending off several of his guardsmen to track down the women. The news reported back to him revealed Lenneth was safely secure in her rooms, and Mystina was off visiting someone in the city. The sorceress wasn't expected to return before morning, and for that reason alone did Lezard relax.

But only slightly. It was difficult for him to be of good cheer, the mage brooding. Not even the raucous atmosphere that had preceded the dinner, could distract him completely. Not when thoughts of Lenneth filled his mind, the moment of their near kiss replaying in his memories again and again. He remembered the look in her eyes, the tortured panic she had worn the moment that followed Lenneth shoving Lezard away from her. He regretted causing her such distress, might even regret attempting to kiss her in the first place.

But not even that regret could stop him from wanting more from Lenneth. From yearning for a closeness, a bond to develop between them. Lezard understood they might never get that closeness if he didn't push her forward. But there in lie the difficulty, Lezard knowing he shouldn't push too fast, or too hard. Not without the risk of his actions alienating Lenneth completely. But it wasn't easy to hold back, to content himself with little touches. He was greedy for more, even as he savored every little touch he could steal.

Lenneth wasn't used to such affection. Even the little, innocent touches he forced on her made Lenneth uneasy. But there was a purpose there, Lezard guiding her to learn his touch. To tolerate and get used to it. All in the hopes that one day she would welcome it and him. Lezard had thought he was making progress in that regard. What a fool he had been! A touch of her hair was nothing compared to the pressing of their lips together. No wonder she had panicked. But with that panic, she had hurt him, his own heart flinching in pain.

And with that pain came a depression, Lezard wondering just how much longer he would have to wait for Lenneth to be open to his advances. As it was now, it did not bode well for their wedding night. She was like a skittish colt, and would never tolerate his desires. She had said as much, speaking on how close she was to falling in love with him. A love forced on her by Odin, the enchantment weakening her, draining the fight out of Lenneth. But even as she acknowledged the struggle, she had been defiant, speaking on how she would not willingly become a toy for Lezard to use.

He wanted more for her, for them both. He wanted love! Yet it was a love he couldn't publicly pursue, Lezard aware of the enemies around him. The enemies that would use his love against him, hurt Lenneth in attempts to revenge themselves or gain advantages over him. Lezard did not dare risk revealing that love even to Lenneth, fearing for her safety. Fearing the fact that she was mortal now. 

How ironic was it, that to gain her he had had to render Lenneth vulnerable to harm?! It was thoughts like these that tortured him this evening. He sat at the head of the master's table, nursing one of the many drinks he had had this evening. The alcohol wasn't numbing him as much as Lezard would have liked. His thoughts continued to trouble him, Lezard feeling depressed. For himself, for Lenneth, for the weaknesses he had given her, and the fact he could never be open about just how much she mattered to him.

He held in his sighs, thinking he would never get to speak the words that so mattered to Lenneth. She would never get to hear him confirm his love. It was cruel, but through denying her the proof of his heart felt feelings, he would be keeping her safe. And that was a true sacrifice born of love. Lezard wasn't even startled at this point to be thinking so surely that he loved Lenneth. The amount of drink he had had, lowered his own defenses. Allowed him to realize what he had been struggling to deny. He loved her, had loved her perhaps from that first sighting on Idavoll's plains.

It was that unrecognized love that had made him take foolish risks. But Lezard did not want to think of Hel and Odin, and the many ways their displeasure could fall onto him. He just wanted to sit here and drink, drink himself to oblivion so that he could escape the pain of his heart. Love when it was unrequited, unable to be expressed fully was a brutal torture. It made Lezard feel sick, worse than any poison or alcohol could make him.

It also didn't help that the few who remained in the dining room with him, were in far better moods. They didn't seem to sense any of their Lord's displeasure, the men here full of cheerful, near raucous laughter. It was always like this when Randolf dominated the conversations. The blond man was full of stories, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth as he regaled the group with his travels and the women he had met.

Some of Randolf's accounts bordered on the obscene. No women remained, all having had the good sense to depart the instant the heavy drinking had started. Now there only remained the men, and the group was small. In addition to Randolf and Lezard, there was five other nobles present. All men Lezard trusted, all men he might even call friend.

But he wasn't sure how far their loyalties would extend. Would they be willing to side with him against Hel? He did not think so. More likely they would think Lezard a fool, think him stupid for risking so much for a woman, for a chance at being loved. Half the time Lezard thought that of himself too. It left him wondering when had love begun to matter to him, especially after years of going without it.

Love should have been something he could have gone without. Lezard would have been content, or at least as much as he could be, with a life free of love. But that had all changed with the first sighting of Lenneth. He had changed. Slowly but surely, his heart becoming susceptible to the Valkyrie's charms. It was charms he was sure other men had fallen for as well, the Valkyries such that few men could resist their appeal.

Even now, Randolf's words worked to prove him right, the blonde man dazzling his audience with descriptions of the Valkyries he had seen. Randolf seemed to be of the opinion that each Valkyrie was more beautiful than the last, the man grinning as he recalled the lovely faces he had seen. His audience of five was enrapt, listening as Randolf spun his tales.

"But my favorite of the Valkyries I had the chance to see, was a lass of ivory skin. She had flame colored hair, thick ringlets of it that could not be contained by her helm. Her eyes were just as fiery, a piercing green that seemed to stare into the souls of everyone she met." Randolf seemed to shiver, as though perversely delighting in the Valkyrie's stern gaze.

"Did you get a chance to talk to any of the Valkyries?" It was Garrant, a near balding noble who asked that question. Another man would laugh, his words stirring a similar reaction from nearly all the men present.

"Come now Garrant, you know better than that!" Chided Louville. "If our Randolf had had the opportunity to do more than looked at the women, he would have surely tried to bed one of them." Louville grinned, pandering to the laughter. "And gotten his balls cut off for his efforts!"

"Hey now!" protested Randolf. "I might have had a chance. The Valkyrie are still women." He turned his gaze towards Lezard, searching for support. "They still have needs. Right Lezard?"

Lezard took advantage of his drink to avoid answering immediately. The other men present had also turned to look at him, their faces showing an eagerness for answers. They were so curious about the women who were Odin's elite soldiers, eager for any bit of knowledge they could glean. They surely thought Lezard had an inside track on the Valkyries, and all due to his limited interactions with his bride to be.

"Yes, Lezard. Do tell us about the Valkyries' needs!" Louville invited. "Are they really just women like Randolf insists?"

"They are first and foremost Goddesses." Lezard stressed. He had finished his drink, but already someone moved to refill his cup. He did not stop them, privately welcoming the oblivion drink could offer him. "Minor deities in their own right." 

"I would not mind worshipping at their altar, I can tell you that much!" laughed another man. He was wearing a lewd grin, nudging Sameer who sat to the right of him. "Especially if they are all as beautiful as Randolf says."

"Oh do you doubt me? The blonde man asked. "Especially after you have seen our Lord's betrothed?" Lezard tried not to let jealousy stir, watching as the men all paused, as though conjuring an image of Lenneth in their heads. It was absurd to feel so possessive of her, to not want other men to even think of his bride to be. And yet he felt it all the same, Lezard wanting to zap them with lightning, tear the images of Lenneth from their minds.

"Ah. She is lovely."

"Lovely? You blasphemy, Garrant, if you think the Valkyrie is anything less than beautiful." Louville exclaimed. He grinned at Lezard, sensing none of the mood his Lord was in. "You are a lucky, lucky man." He lifted his goblet in mock salute, before drinking down the contents of it.

"Or at least you will be once you get the Valkyrie to warm up to you!" added another, his words earning wild laughter from the others.

"It should not be so difficult." Insisted Randolf. "A few choice words here and there, some gifts, and she will welcome Lezard's attentions."

"Is that all it takes?" wondered Garrant. He seemed disappointed. "A bit of flattery and some baubles to get the Valkyries open to a man's desires?"

"If that were true..." Lezard couldn't keep the sour tone out of his voice. "Randolf would have come back with several of the Goddesses on his arms." More laughter from the men, this time at the expense of Randolf. The blonde man did not scowl, taking it all in good humor.

"I would be more than willing to test out the proper way to pursue a Goddess." He said. "Heaven knows it would be worth it!"

"Only if you succeed" laughed Louville. He was refilling his cup with mead. "I think the Valkyries would not be content to be mere notches on your bed board."

"Indeed they wouldn't." Lezard said, thinking of Lenneth's words, of how she refused to be anything less than loved. She feared being used, and it was fear that left her fighting all the stronger against Odin's enchantment. "The Valkyrie are not the type of women to be used, not content to be a man's latest conquest in the bedroom." He thought of the Goddesses he had seen in Asgard, the Valkyries fighting on the plains of Idavoll. "No....those women are tough, strong. Driven by the sword, they exist only to fight Odin's wars."

"Ah yes, your Lenneth told us similar." Sameer recalled. 

"Oh?"

"Yes, she spoke briefly about how she had enjoyed being a Valkyrie. The purpose her battles gave her." Sameer explained. "I believe she misses it."

"You are right about that." Lezard tried to hide how glum that agreement made him feel. "I think Lenneth would have been content to spend out the rest of her immortality on the battle field...."

"She had to hang up her sword eventually." Louville said in a dismissive tone. "Sooner or later all Valkyrie are retired."

"Not all!" Lezard reminded them.

"Ah yes...some are so unfortunate as to be slain in battle." Louville allowed a smile to cross his face. "I think your Lenneth will realize in time, that is a fate much worse than being tied to a man."

"Perhaps." Damn it, but his uncertainty showed, Lezard quickly taking another drink to try and hide that betraying doubt.

"Oh Lezard, is the fight for her heart getting you down?" Randolf chose to sit down next to the mage, going so far as to pat him heartily on the back. "Don't worry! Randolf is here! I will help you melt away all her resistance!" He was grinning broadly, even as Lezard made a dry retort.

"Somehow I doubt Lenneth will be susceptible to the same tricks that work on a tavern wench."

But Randolf was insistent in his belief that the Goddesses were the same as mortal women. "When you strip away their armor, they are all the same!"

Lezard sighed, the sound exasperated. "That's what I am trying to get you to understand. They are not. How can I hope to seduce someone who would most likely rather take a blade to my heart, then offer me so much as a smile?"

"Come now!" protested Randolf. "It can't really be all that bad."

"We are her enemies." Lezard stressed. "Or at least we were, as far as she is concerned."

"Oh that." Randolf frowned. "Can't say Queen Hel's planned betrayal will help to endear you any to Lady Lenneth." 

"Don't you think I know that?!" Lezard snapped, agitated. He didn't appreciate the reminder of what Hel planned to do, any more than he wanted to think of the double cross he was involved in with Odin. It just made him testy, and the drinks he had had, also soured his mood further.

A quiet followed Lezard's moment of agitation. And then Sameer was talking, hesitantly. "Might you not keep her from discovering what Hel is doing?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Garrant. "She is cut off from the other Valkryies, far from the heavens. She need never know what has happened outside of these walls."

"As if I could hide it from her!" glowered Lezard.

"Yes, someone would be bound to tell her." Agreed Louville. He seemed to have failed to realize Lezard's complaint was born out of his reluctance to deceive Lenneth. It had nothing to do with the fear that someone would betray any secrets he tried to keep. 

"Most likely Mystina." added Sameer. "She would love another chance to cause you trouble. You and Lady Lenneth both!"

"Hmph, Mysitina." scoffed Randolf. "She just needs a man to take a firm hand with her."

"Oh, are you volunteering for the position?" Louville asked, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Not I!" protested Randolf, visibly alarmed. "The sorceress is beautiful, but her tongue is too sharp even for me. That one is nothing but trouble." He added as the men began laughing.

"That she is." Came the agreement.

"So what will you do?" Garrant asked, looking at Lezard. He shrugged, swallowing down more of the strong tasting alcohol.

"Woo her." Advised Sameer. "Make her fall in love with you." 

"As if it's that easy." Muttered Lezard under his breath. The men here did not know about the enchantment Lenneth was under. No one in Flenceburg knew, the secret kept between Lezard and Lenneth. It was a secret that would have exposed Lenneth's vulnerabilities, and would have only served to embarrass her further. And Lezard too, Mystina would have had quite the laugh to know the Valkyrie was fighting such a strong love spell.

"You have no choice." Sameer insisted. "If you don't get her to fall in love with you before our Queen makes her move...." All the men seemed to shudder as one. Even Lezard could not remain unaffected, the mage wondering if Lenneth would try to kill him in retaliation.

"You have some time, right?" An uncertain Randolf asked. "Our Queen is not yet ready to march on Odin's holdings."

"Queen Hel will not want to wait forever." Warned Garrant. "She is eager to take her place in the heavens as it's Queen."

"She is no fool though." Sameer said gravely. "She will wait."

Lezard had his doubts about that, remembering how impatient Hel had been in his workshop. The Goddess had seemed put out by the thought of waiting, though in the end he had gained her agreement. But he knew she would not wait forever, especially if Lezard could not produce enough viable information from Odin. And the God had yet to contact Lezard with the promised information. 

He swallowed down more of his drink, feeling depression settle in more strongly. Nothing was going right. Nothing would EVER be right, once Hel began to actively make moves against Odin. The fake alliance would crumble, and Lenneth would surely hate Lezard for the role she perceived he had played in the betrayal of her King. He wouldn't be able to tell her the truth. Even as he worked to protect Asgard from Hel's grasping hands, Lenneth would never know of his valiant efforts. She would hate him, he was sure.

Randolf noted how downhill Lezard's mood had gone. His friendship was such, that the man would make the attempt to cheer Lezard up. "Here...enough talk about what we can't change." He was already pouring a new drink into Lezard goblet, the liquid holding a strong smell to it. It was not Lezard's preferred mead, being a rich amber in color.

"What's this?" Lezard asked, frowning at his goblet.

"Something a lot stronger than that swill you've been drinking all evening." Randolf told him. "Come, it'll do you some good. Might even take your mind off your worries."

"I doubt anything is strong enough to do that." Lezard muttered. But he swallowed down the strong tasting liquid.

"What we need to do is plan out your strategy." Randolf said, his brown eyes twinkling. 

"Strategy?" Lezard echoed with a frown. "For when we march on Odin's holdings?"

"NO!" Randolf made a scoffing sound. "We'll worry about that at some other time. Right now you should be focused on the lady. On winning her heart, and your impending nuptials." Randolf paused to tip back his cup, swallowing down nearly all of his own drink in the process. "Now is the time. If you want Lady Lenneth's love, you have to make your move!"

"Make my move?" Lezard repeated.

"Yes. None of this taking it slow that you seem to be doing. You need to be more aggressive. Need to take her by the hand, need to kiss her senseless if that's what it takes!" Randolf used the back of his hand to dry off his mouth.

"I don't think that is wise..."

"That's your problem!" exclaimed Randolf. "You think far too much! You need to stop analyzing the situation, and give in to your feelings!" A shrewd look from those brown eyes. "What does your feelings tell you to do when you look at her?"

Lezard quickly began drinking, growing too flustered to even want to answer such a question. The strong drink Randolf had given him, went down easier this time, Lezard feeling a pleasant buzz he associated with it.

"Ah...it's all right." Randolf chuckled. "You don't have to answer to me. But you do have to acknowledge your desires. It's not healthy otherwise!"

"Randolf is right....of a sort." Sameer said, all eyes being drawn to the noble. "Perhaps you are letting your thoughts hold you back."

"I don't want to put pressure on Lenneth." Lezard began.

"But she might need it." Countered Sameer. "And you don't have the luxury of time. You need to win her over to your side, lest you really do find yourself stabbed through with a sword!" Glumly, Lezard finished off his drink, then held out his goblet for more of Randolf's special mead. "I think the lady might not be that adverse to a little...pressure." 

"And what would you know?" Lezard demanded harshly.

"More than you realize." Sameer said. "I was present this morning when Mystina taunted your betrothed. I saw how her words affected Lady Lenneth. Saw the hurt she was trying to hide. She did not like the thought of not mattering to you. Any more than she liked the thought of Mystina's claims that you are incapable of love." 

"Damn, the sorceress said all that?" Randolf was amazed, surely thinking Mystina had gone too far, even for herself.

"She did." Nodded Sameer. "She was hurtful, but at least that hurt served a purpose if it got Lady Lenneth to reveal some of her own feelings about our Lord."

Lezard wondered if that is why Lenneth had been so honest about her vulnerabilities towards him. Perhaps she really had been affected by Mystina's words, to the point she had sought reassurance from Lezard. A reassurance Lezard hadn't been able to truly give her. He stared bleakly at his cup, thinking how badly he had bungled things in the workshop. Lenneth had exposed a part of herself to him, and Lezard had blithely ignored the cost of the admissions she had made when he had tried to kiss her. 

And yet he couldn't say if he would have done things any different. He still burned for her, filled with longing that was going unrequited. That longing manifested in the touches he tried to take, every feel of her hair a minor victory. He was greedy for more, might want harder than Hel had ever wanted for Odin's power. That want might burn both Lezard and Lenneth, turn them to ash before the dramas he had set into motion played through to their ends.

"There now." Randolf was saying, tone forced cheer. "You can work with that! Your Lenneth has needs after all if she wants to matter to you."

"Work with it how?" Lezard demanded plaintively.

"Well, for one thing, don't allow her to hide from you any longer!" Exclaimed Randolf with a nod from the others. "The wedding is the day after tomorrow. You shouldn't waste a second!"

"Randolf is right." Agreed Sameer. "You should be using this time to cultivate the relationship. To work on getting her to fall in love with you. Do not let Mystina drive a wedge between you, and most of all, do not allow Lenneth to do the same."

"But I do not know how to make her fall in love with me!" Lezard admitted, his voice affected by his anguish.

"You kiss her!" decided Randolf. "You take her in your arms, and you lay a passionate one on her!"

"Does that really work?" A skeptical Louville asked.

"It works for me." A hesitation. "Usually." Randolf shrugged. "It depends on the type of woman, really..."

"Lady Lenneth is a higher class of woman than what you are used to!" sniffed Garrant. "As our Lord reminded us, she was a Goddess once!"

"Can anyone really know how to woo a Goddess?" Lezard wondered out loud.

"No." said Sameer. "But you have to try! Why don't you start on cultivating a friendship with her. Find some common interests you two might share...."

"A friendship? Hmph. That sounds needlessly complicated." Grumbled Randolf.

"But oh so rewarding." A faint smile from Sameer. "Love will be all the more satisfying if it is grounded in friendship."

"Or all the more devastating once crushed." Muttered Louville, and the others hurried to shush him.

"Go to her, Lezard." Urged Sameer. "Talk to her. Get to know her beyond the Valkyrie she once was."

"And if that doesn't work, kiss her!" added Randolf, trying to fill Lezard's cup again. Lezard shoved the drink away, and unsteadily rose to his feet.

"I will try it." He announced. The men all cheered, raising goblets to him in toast.

"You have nothing to lose from making the effort." Noted Sameer with approval. 

"And everything to gain!" added Garrant.

Lezard nodded, and took stumbling, uncertain steps past the table. No one thought to stop him. They had after all had more drink in them than was wise. Certainly none thought to suggest Lezard wait until he sobered up, instead cheering him on as he left the dining room. Lezard was fueled by their enthusiasm, taking determined steps up the stair case that led to the floor where Lenneth's temporary quarters were located.

A spring might even be in his step, Lezard propelling himself forward with the determination to see Lenneth before his courage faltered. Sameer and even Randolf's words echoed constantly in his mind, their contrasting advice playing havoc on his own thoughts. Lezard meant to do as Sameer said, to try and make a go at starting a friendship with Lenneth. But he wasn't entirely sure how to do that, his drink addled mind making it difficult for the mage to remember how he had become friends with some of the women of his court.

The problem was, those women he was friends with, Lezard had never desired anything more from them. Certainly Lezard had never wanted to love them! Free of love and lusts, it had been easy to make friends. An ease he did not have when dealing with Lenneth. The lack of it, had him pausing in front of her door, palms sweaty. At some point his nerves had increased, anxiety mounting until his heart beat was pounding in his ears. It couldn't drown out the sound of his hand knocking on the door, a loud insistent banging meant to rouse Lenneth from the sleep   
she might have already taken.

A minute passed, and then he heard her sweet voice. "Yes? Who is it?" 

"It's me." He said, then added a clarification. "Lezard." A long pause, Lezard wondering if she was going to ignore him. And then he heard the door unlocking, Lenneth pulling it open. Lezard drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her. Her lovely face, her almond shaped eyes. Her long, platinum hair was unbound, hanging down in loose waves against her back. 

She was already dressed for bed, the snow white gown he had picked out for her softly clinging to her breasts. A ribbon that was a blue that would complement her hair was wound about her, just beneath her breasts. And from it flowed the night gown, the skirts loose enough when she moved, but clinging when she held still. He could make out the shape of her legs against the thin fabric, the gown a seductive, teasing sight.

"Lezard?" Lenneth's voice sounded concerned, drawing his attention reluctantly away from his study of her body. 

"We missed you at dinner." He finally said. His tongue didn't want to move, Lezard barely able to form the words. "I missed you." He added, stressing his need.

"Thank you for your concern." Lenneth answered. "I wasn't really hungry..."

He had eaten his fill at dinner, and yet hunger consumed him now. But it wasn't one that food would satisfied, Lezard staring at Lenneth, starved for her attention. "It's my fault." He managed to say to her. "I...I drove you off with my earlier actions." Thankfully his brain had worked well enough that he had enough foresight not to say he had scared her. Lezard knew Lenneth would have been insulted had he implied she had been afraid of him. Even if it was true, the woman wary of his kiss. 

He wanted to prove to her there was noting to fear, nothing to be afraid of. Especially from him! He wanted to try to kiss her again, and a part of him knew he should leave before he made the attempt. But that part was drowned out by the louder, more insistent half, Lezard fueled by drink and the good wishes of his friends. "I won't...can't say I'm sorry for what I did." Lezard winced inwardly, wondering why he had blurted out that he wasn't sorry.

"Oh?" That was all Lenneth said, one elegant brow raising in surprise. 

"I wanted to kiss you." He admitted. "Still do."

"It is your right to want that." She told him. "We are to be married after all."

"Damn it, it has nothing to do with marriage!" Some agitation had slipped into his voice, Lezard taking a step nearer to Lenneth. "I...I want...." But he couldn't tell her how he really felt. His hands clenched into fists, Lezard staring frustrated at Lenneth. 

"What do you want?" She asked.

He wanted to respond, to tell her that it was she that he wanted so badly. "I want to be your friend." He said instead. Lezard remembered saying that to her earlier, talking in desperate circles of cultivating a relationship between them so that the marriage need not be one purely of convenience. A friend was safer than admitting to anyone he wanted her love, to have it, and to give back of himself to Lenneth.

"It's too soon to tell what sort of relationship we will have." Was Lenneth's answer. It wasn't good enough for him.

"That's because you keep avoiding me." Lezard told her.

"I'm not avoiding you." 

"You are!" He insisted. "Or else you would have come to dinner."

"I simply wasn't hungry. It had nothing to do with you, or what happened between us in your workshop."

That she mentioned the workshop incident was telling. "I think it does have to do with that. With what almost happened."

"Lezard..."

"No let me finish." He cut her off. "We kissed...or almost kissed. It's nothing to be ashamed of, nor should you be frightened." The blue of her eyes sparked in response to that last word, Lenneth starting to protest she hadn't been scared. "No...shh...shh..I can't know what is in your mind. I can only react based on what I saw. And what you told me. And Lenneth? Everything is pointing me towards the realization that this thing between us terrifies you."

"There is nothing between us." Lenneth said, her expression hard to read. Was she saddened by that? And was that sadness born of the enchantment Odin had cast on her?

"You're wrong." Lezard told her. 

"Am I? You want, but is that enough?" She challenged. "And I? I can only feel what I feel because of what Lord Odin did to me."

"I can be good to you." Lezard was near desperate now, wanting to reach out and grab her. "I can make myself worthy of that spell, worthy of you!"

"But can you love me?" Lenneth asked. Whatever showed on his face, seemed to be answer enough. Lenneth nodded stiffly, and started to turn away. "Good night Lezard."

"No." He wasn't content to let things end for tonight, to let Lenneth stew in her own self doubts. He wasn't able to confess his true feelings, not out loud. But there might be other ways to prove how badly he needed her. "I can't love you the way you need." He admitted, praying she would understand. "But I...I can..."

"What can you do?" She asked, the look in her eyes showing Lenneth was hurt by what he had admitted.

"This." Lezard said, and stepped into the room. He heard Lenneth gasp, the woman backing up a step from him. Far enough that both ended up inside the room, Lezard allowing the door to fall close behind him. Lenneth tried to avoid him, but he was determined, his desperation fueled by the need to make her understand, to make her realize he did love her. It wasn't the kind of love she craved, it would never be able to be spoken out loud. But it was there all the same, and he could translate that love into action. Now, here.

He took a gentle but firm hold of her arms, drawing in Lenneth against him. Her eyes were huge, her alarm apparent. She started to struggling, squirming against him. It tore a ragged moan from Lezard, his own body starting to tremble. He was excited but nervous, and more than a little drunk. His judgment was impaired in so many ways, but never was his need for Lenneth more apparent then now.

Holding her in his arms, Lezard lowered his face towards hers. Her lips parted an instant before his mouth touched hers, Lenneth trying to say something. Was it a protest of his name, of his actions? He'd never know, Lezard sealing his mouth over hers. Lenneth tried to firm her lips, tried to avoid submitting to his kiss so completely. But he would not be denied, his expression of love ardent in it's need to make itself known to her.

If he could, Lezard would imprint his love for Lenneth upon her lips. Sear it's claim on her in a way she would not be able to deny, even if she doubted him for not speaking the words she so needed to hear. His own mouth was a tad harsh, making a bruising pressure on hers as he kissed her soundly. Passionately. This kiss was far different from the one he had tried to give her in the workshop. It was a total claiming, demanding she give in and give up a part of herself to the kiss.

A whimper of sound was heard. Was it he who made the noise, or Lenneth? Did it even matter? His hands were gripping her arms, and Lenneth had stopped struggling against him. Her lips were yielding, Lezard licking over the seam of them, encouraging her to open up fully to his kiss. The last of her resistance gave way, Lezard letting out a moan as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. 

Taste and sensation came to him, hers. Lezard was ruthlessly plundering her mouth, learning the shape of it. And the feel of her tongue, the mage bringing his to rub against hers. Lenneth didn't know what to do in response to his tongue's movements, her owns uncertain and clumsy. Sweet in her complete innocence. Her body was going softer, Lenneth relaxing against him. 

That relaxation would last only long enough for Lezard to scoop her up off the floor. She tried to gasp against his lips, but his mouth ate up and muffled her sounds. He never broke the kiss, never gave her the chance to protest as he carried her over to the bed. The kiss continued as he lowered her, and himself onto the soft mattress, Lezard's only thoughts that tonight he would prove to her with action just how much he loved her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued!


	23. Twenty Three

Sound intruded in on his consciousness. A persistent chirp of it, a bird somewhere close to him singing a song. What might ordinarily be pleasant, now succeeded at being nothing more than annoying. Lezard grumbled under his breath, tempted to take his pillow and throw it in the direction of the bird. But that would require more movement than he currently felt capable of doing. 

His body felt heavy, weighted down. His head felt even worse, mind sluggish, with a dull throb of pain accompanying every thought he attempted to have. All signs pointed to it, Lezard realizing he was hung over. What's worse, the symptoms seemed exaggerated with that realization. The throbbing his head was doing increased in severity and frequency, his mouth feeling far too dry.

He felt warm too, as though he was wearing too much clothing. He began pulling at his shirt, only to discover it was half unbuttoned already. He shifted, warily cracking open his eyes. Blinding sunlight immediately hit him, Lezard letting out a hiss of pain and throwing his arm over his face. It blocked out the sun, but the brief glimpse of that too blinding light had awakened him completely, all his aches and pains flaring up at once. Good lord, what had he been drinking to feel this horrible?!

Dully, Lezard remembering Randolf filling his cup with some kind of strong smelling drink. Lezard growled slowly, making a vow. That would be the last time he ever drank any of Randolf's special brew. Potent in taste and smell, it was probably strong enough to kill someone fool enough to drink too much of it. Or at the very least, kill off some much needed brain cells.

It might have done just that to Lezard, the mage realizing he couldn't really remember much of what happened after he had left the dining room. He certainly didn't recall how he ended up in bed, or why for that matter he was still wearing his boots. He felt sick and unclean, clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled. But he couldn't imagine getting up to take a bath. It simply felt like too much effort to even move. And yet Lezard knew he had responsibilities, things he had to attend to today. There was that briefing based on the discoveries Randolf had made on his travels, along with last minute details of his impending nuptials. Truthfully, those type of details were typically handled by the bride, but Lezard couldn't imagine Lenneth involving herself in that sort of manner. 

He frowned at that thought, and then his eyes snapped open wide. Lenneth! He went to sit up, and immediately cringed away from the sun light. His eyes had squinted shut, Lezard holding up his arm as if that would ward off the sun rays. His head screamed with pain from his sudden movements, Lezard wanting nothing more than to lay back down. But he had remembered something, an important piece of information that had him worried anew. It involved Lenneth, Lezard recalling how he had sought her out.

He couldn't remember clearly all that happened, Lezard frowning as he lowered his arm. He cautiously opened his eyes, the sun's light still hurting him. Someone had left open the window's curtains, allowing the sun to flood the room with light. He might have been annoyed by that, but Lezard was too busy noticing the room wasn't his. And with that notice, dread filled him, Lezard realizing this was the bedroom that had been given to Lenneth. 

"Oh no..." He breathed, turning his head quickly to see if she was present. That movement hurt him, but he ignored it. The room was empty, the songbird continuing to sing by the window. Lezard couldn't bear to look towards it, not even to fathom just how long he had been sleeping. But he could hear people in the courtyard, talking and laughing. It made him think enough time had have to gone by for the castle to be up and that active.

But he didn't really care what the others were up to. He just wanted to know where Lenneth was. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, how he had ended up in her bed. But Lezard had the feeling he should be ashamed, a guilty need to apologize filling him. He struggled to the edge of the bed, taking a shaky step forward. And then another, until Lezard was by the table. There was a pitcher of fresh water sitting there. He'd drink it down, trying to quench his thirst and rid himself of the dry mouth feeling.

By the time he finished with the water, Lezard was standing straighter. He was still squinting in response to the light, and his head still had that persistent pain. But at least he didn't feel nauseous, Lezard able to move without falling over.

Over the chair, lay the silk nightgown Lenneth had been wearing. He gravitated towards it, reaching for the gown. It no longer held the warmth from Lenneth's skin. That told him much time had passed since she had worn this garment. Lezard could not resist bringing it up towards his face, rubbing his cheek over the soft, smooth fabric. He could smell Lenneth's scent, the faintest perfume of lilies bringing up a sensory memory to him.

It came clearly in his head, Lenneth beneath him. Her body had been soft, pliant. Covered in the soft, flimsy silk of the nightgown. She had been trembling, the exposed flesh of her arms covered in goose bumps. He had been determined to warm her up, Lezard bending over her, his hands in her hair. Lifting it away from her neck so that he could breathe in the scent of her.

The memory was over with as fast as it had started. Lezard was left standing there, his nose pressed into the nightgown's silk. His hands began to tremble, Lezard now remembering how pretty Lenneth had looked in the night gown. How soft and inviting it had made her body appear. That next moment of memory was a strong flashback, Lezard remembering how her voice had drawn his attention away from staring at her body. He inwardly flinched, remembering now he had stood there, staring as he talked to her. She had been dressed for bed, he should have never stayed. It wasn't proper to call on a lady so late at night, especially when it was obvious she had been about to sleep. 

And yet all sense of proprietary had fled him, Lezard lingering, talking foolishly to her. What had he been trying to tell Lenneth? He could not remember, only recalling the flustered and frustrated emotions stirred by their exchange. It told him that the conversation had not been going as well as it could have been, Lezard coming away disappointed. Lenneth too, the woman's expression not as guarded as she might have liked.

He was still holding the night gown, though Lezard had lowered it from his face. He was still remembering how she had looked wearing it, a soft shudder going through him. Gods but she was beautiful. To the point it was painful to look at her and know Lenneth was not yet his. That thought had been in his mind last night as well, Lezard realizing he had been determined to do something about it. 

It worried him, Lezard positive he had done something foolish. Something worse than just awkward talking and staring that bordered on rude. The memory he did have, of Lenneth beneath him didn't bode well, Lezard letting the nightgown slide out of his unresisting hands. It fluttered to the floor with the softest whisper of sound, but Lezard paid it no mind. Instead he turned to look at the bed, positive that was where he had lain with Lenneth.

But he wasn't as thrilled as he could have been, Lezard stepping towards the bed. Just what had happened last night? How far had they gone? Had he done more than kiss and smell her? And why had Lenneth been so docile beneath him? Had a part of her welcome his affection? He didn't think it was that simple, Lezard moaning and feeling dread develop within him. He had surely done something awful last night, something Lenneth might not be able to forgive.

He wasn't a man prone to much panic, but now he fought with that feeling. Struggled to control it, to keep it from overwhelming him. Somehow Lezard found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He moaned anew, Lezard muttering out loud. "What have I done?!" But he had no answers, and no concrete memory to rely on. Just small pieces that made him worry all the more. 

For how long Lezard sat on the bed, moaning into his hands, he could not say. But the songbird had quieted down. And Lenneth had yet to return. He didn't think her absence boded well for him. Surely she must be angry, or at the very least disappointed with him. Lezard didn't know for sure what had happened, but felt Lenneth had a right to any negative emotions she might be harboring towards him now.

He didn't feel particularly happy with his own behavior either. Lezard was full of self loathing, though it was born based on what he imagined had happened. His mind was very creative in coming up with new scenarios for him to cringe over, leaving Lezard with the suspicion the truth couldn't be anywhere as bad as what he thought had happened. Lezard moaned again, mortified and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. Or better yet, wishing he could go back in time, and slap the drink out of his hand before he could consume it.

But neither option was within his power. He could only go forward, and try and make amends. Lezard didn't even wonder if there wasn't anything to be sorry about. And all because of the overwhelming feeling of wrongness that filled him, sparking brighter with those half bits of memory he had recalled. Lezard was sure he had made a fool of himself, damaging his relationship with Lenneth in the process.

Amidst his moaning, Lezard became aware that the noise from the courtyard continued. In fact it was louder, more boisterous and full of cheerful taunts. He didn't know what was going on, but it sounded like half the castle was gathered in the inner courtyard. The laughter drew him from the bed, Lezard walking an unsteady path to the window. No one was looking up to see him staring out, and the loud cheering drowned out his in drawn hiss.

There was indeed a lot of people crowded into the courtyard. From the drab colors of the serving class, to the bright, expensively dressed nobles, and even the black and gold uniforms of the castle guards, there was a representation of nearly every class outside. And centered in that crowd was several of the guardsmen, the men in the midst of their sword drills. Lezard didn't glance up to judge the sun's position in the sky, but had a strong feeling this was too late in the day for serious training to take place. Even with the unusual timing, the people who lived inside the castle shouldn't have cared all that much about the mock sword fights going on.

Except...there was someone new standing amidst the dozen guards. Someone who was most decidedly not a new recruit. Standing with her platinum hair braided behind her back, Lenneth was a vision in a pale purple dress that was trimmed with silver. The silver accents brought out that same color in Lenneth's hair, most traces of the blue gone now. Lezard couldn't see her face, had no idea if her eyes sparked with challenge or amusement. But she let out a laugh, the first real sound of amusement he had ever heard her make.

A sword was in Lenneth's hand, the woman expertly twirling it in complex patterns. The sharp blade never came close to cutting her, and yet Lezard gripped the window's sill harder in response. Her free hand held not a shield, but instead the skirts of her dress, hauling them upright so they would not trip her during her fight. The crowd was cheering, excited like this was some great entertainment, to watch the former Goddess do battle with the guardsmen.

At the moment, she stood surrounded by a ring of them. Most were content just to admire her, but a few had swords in their hands. They were eager to test their merits against the one time Valkyrie. An eagerness she matched, deftly wielding her sword even in that restrictive gown of hers. Lezard's heart leapt into his throat, watching as one man charged her. His sword would narrowly miss her braid, Lenneth having pivoted in place to smack the flat of her blade against his ass. That playful hit earned laughter from the crowd, the guardsman turning red faced in embarrassed anger.

Turning, he would charge her again, feinting to Lenneth's right at the last moment. Lenneth would bring her sword to clash against his, the metal clanging loudly. Lezard winced as the man began pressing into Lenneth's blade with his own, the mage sure the guard would overwhelm the woman with pure physical strength. Lenneth simply hauled her skirts higher, and kicked out with her leg, sweeping out the man's feet from under him.

With a thud, he hit the cobblestones. Lenneth's sword was at his throat before he could even think to get up. His mouth was open, a round o of shock there that quickly gave way to grudging admiration. 

"Whose next?" Lenneth demanded, after the down guardsman had given the signal that he yielded to her. Lezard did not wait to see just who would challenge the Valkyrie next, the mage turning away from the window. He'd hurry out the room, and through the corridors. It would be on the main floor that an elderly woman would gasp, the servant scandalized by the state of her Lord's half dressed state. Lezard would murmur out a sheepish apology, and pause long enough to button his shirt up the rest of the way.

But he didn't try to comb through his hair, Lezard running the last steps out of the castle. It was standing room only in the courtyard, the crowd not wanting to give up room to a newcomer. Not until they realized just who it was who was angrily pushing his way through them. A ripple effect went through the crowd, the noise slowly starting to die down as they all grew quiet and moved aside for Lezard. They had sensed some of his mood, and might even have thought they were about to get a new kind of entertainment this day.

They might very well get a show, though Lezard vowed to do his best to disappoint them. There was no way he wanted to allow them the chance to wag their tongues with new information about his and Lenneth's problems. They had enough to gossip about without needing to know about the mishaps of the night before.

He had reached the front of the crowd, but Lenneth was unaware of his presence. Lezard stared at her, aware his disheveled appearance made him look wild and unkempt. Her back was to him, Lenneth dueling furiously with an older guardsman. His age was not a disadvantage, if anything he had years of experience wielding a sword. But a mere thirty or so years was nothing to Lenneth, who had had at the very least centuries to perfect her blade handling.

The sword was knocked from the man's hand, Lenneth exerting care not to send it flying out into the crowd. The guardsman looked like he would attempt to lunge after it, but Lenneth's sword moved, a warning being pointed in his face. The man would draw up short, then bow his head in acknowledgment of his defeat.

Even as the man moved to gather his sword, another was running forward. This was a fresh faced youth, newly initiated into the life of a guardsman. He was so young, he might not have ever fought in any true battles. And yet he had enough enthusiasm to spare for his lack of experience, the youth charging Lenneth with a wild yell. Lenneth side stepped him, the boy nearly falling face first to the ground. But he righted himself at the last moment, and charged her again.

Lenneth turned, and for one brief moment he saw her eyes. Alight with excited emotion, they flickered as she took note of Lezard's presence. The blue seemed to dim in response to his nearness, and then her sword was moving as though it was an automatic extension of her arm. So distracted had she been by Lezard's arrival, Lenneth had nearly not gotten her sword up in time to defend the boy's blow. 

She recovered smooth enough, letting the boy clash his sword against her three more times, before she disarmed him of his blade. The young man looked so disappointed, as though he had thought he had had a real chance against the former Goddess. "You need to work more on your defense." Lenneth told him kindly. "When you attack, you kept leaving your left side vulnerable to attack. If this had been a war, I would have taken advantage to slice you open on that side."

The boy seemed to blanch at the thought, but nodded his head rapidly. "Yes, Lady Lenneth. I will work harder to fix that vulnerability so that next time we spar, there won't be any reason for you to be disappointed in me."

Lezard tried but failed not to glower in the youth's direction. He wanted to shout that there wouldn't be a next time, that Lezard wouldn't allow any of them, not even Lenneth herself, to endanger the former Valkyrie in this way. But somehow he managed to restrain his voice, Lezard merely making fists instead. His mood worsened when it became obvious Lenneth wasn't going to acknowledge him, the woman looking for her next opponent.

"All right, that's enough!" Lezard said, his voice raised loud enough for all in the courtyard to hear. "You have patrols to go on." The crowd let out disappointed sounds, a rumble of protest coming from some of the nobles. "I'm sure we all have more important things to do than to stay out here in the hot sun!"

Little by little the crowd began to disperse, the servants heading back into the castle. Their mini reprieve from work was over, the guardsmen hurrying off to take up positions on the ramparts. But the nobles linger, many moving to take up position in the shade of trees, or sit on the few benches scattered about the courtyard. It was obvious what they were doing, remaining with the intent to spy on Lezard and Lenneth. They tried to hide their intentions with low voiced conversation, but it was clear they were eager to witness a scene of some kind.

Lezard glare at one group in particular, before turning his attention back to Lenneth. She still had the sword in her hand, practicing her swings with it. Over and over she repeated the maneuver, making it look effortless as the sword cut soundlessly through thin air. She didn't look at Lezard as she did this, seeming content to ignore him. For one brief moment he let her, standing there studying her for tell tale signs. But there didn't appear to be any kiss marks on her neck, Lezard hoping that was a good thing. But maybe he had been to drunk to linger on one place long enough for marks to be made.

With that doubting thought, Lezard stepped as near to Lenneth as he dared. He was about to speak when she chose to break her silence, the woman never actually looking at him. "You didn't have to send them away."

For one moment he wasn't sure what to say to her. His mind wasn't working as fast as it could, his head still throbbing. Lezard had forgotten much of his aches and pains when he had seen her fighting, but now they were flooding back into his awareness. Lezard pushed back the pain, trying not to frown at her. "I meant what I said, that they had duties they were neglecting." No response to that, Lenneth just repeating her swings. "It's a busy time Lenneth. The wedding is tomorrow...and there's still so much to do..."

Her lips seemed to flatten into a disapproving line. Lenneth was not pleased to be reminded of their impending nuptials, that much was apparent to Lezard. He held in his sighs, more sure than ever he had done the worst. Worse enough to earn her displeasure. "Have you had a chance to visit the seamstress?" Lezard continued. "I know she was worried about the gown needing adjustments before the ceremony."

"I will do that today." Lenneth told him in a toneless tone of voice. Now she had added a forward lunge with her swing, thrusting her sword into an imaginary opponent. Somehow Lezard got the feeling she might be imagining him as the victim to her blade.

"Lenneth...." He bit his lip, uncertain of how to proceed. "Lenneth, I have to talk to you..."

"We ARE talking." She pointed out.

"No, this is different. I want to talk about last night." A sudden violent slash through the air, the only betrayal of Lenneth's anger.

"What is there to talk about?" She inquired in a mild tone of voice.

"There's...that is, many things...." He stammered, and she began punctuating her words with her sword slashes.

"Oh? Shall we talk about the state you were in when you came calling on me?" Lenneth demanded. "Or should we talk about how you ignore my feelings to push on me your physical needs?!"

He felt terrible. "I was wrong to approach you when I had that much drink in me." Lezard admitted.

"You were drunk." She hissed, another violent forward stab of her sword. "You were heedless of my own feelings. You said one thing, and did another!"

"I...I was wrong to do that!" Lezard didn't like that his voice came out louder than it should. He quickly lowered it, speaking intently to her. "I wasn't thinking clearly. The drink, Randolf's brew, it affected me. Made me careless and over eager..."

"Overeager doesn't begin to cover what you were!" She muttered. He inwardly cringed, wondering just how badly he had pawed at her.

"Lenneth I..."

"You kissed me." She interrupted, making it sound like the worst accusation ever. "Even knowing how I felt, how I continue to feel. The struggle within me. You kissed me, not once, not twice, but a dozen times at least!"

He didn't even remember one of those kisses, trying not to flinch in response to her upset. "I...I am sorry..."

"Are you really?!" She demanded, and he let out a loud yes. Lenneth made a hmph of sound, clearly not believing him. Lezard turned desperate, trying to plead.

"Last night was a mistake...."

"A mistake?!" Why did Lezard get the feeling he had used the wrong words?

"I never meant to do that!" He blurted out. "I never meant to take advantage of you in that way. To force myself on you when your heart is so unsure. Lenneth, I...I value you. I value you and your feelings. I never want to cause you distress...I...." He looked away from her, and scowled at the nobles who quickly averted their eyes. "Damn it all, we're too out in the open. Here, put down that sword and come with me...."

"Why?" She answered, still fighting with her imaginary opponent. "So you can try and seduce me again?"

"Damn it, Lenneth, no!" He made a wild gesture. "Do you really want to have it all out here? Now? With the others so obvious eavesdropping on us?"

Her sword slowed, Lenneth taking a good look at the nobles who remained in the courtyard. Her lips frowned, and then she nodded stiffly. "Very well." But Lezard noted she didn't put that the sword, actually carrying it with her as Lenneth followed him into the castle.

He would take her into the empty tea room, pausing only long enough to make certain the door was closed against eavesdroppers. With the door and windows closed, sound shouldn't carry. At least not loud enough for the words to be clearly made out. Even knowing that, Lezard was tongued tied, not sure what to say exactly to Lenneth. He still had little idea of just how far they had gone, and Lezard actually feared admitting to that. But Lezard had to know, else he would be driven mad wondering just what had happened between them.

"I'm sorry." He said again, hoping the apologetic words would go over easier this time. Lenneth did not look soothed to hear them, the woman weaving the sword about in complex patterns. Lezard wondered if Lenneth had kept the sword because she need an outlet to express her anger. Or if she brought it as a way to ward him off from her, keep Lezard from approaching too close.

"Truly I am." He continued. He didn't begrudge her use of the sword, so long as she didn't turn the blade against him. "My behavior was deplorable...I...I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No, you shouldn't have!" agreed Lenneth. She met his eyes with hers, blue flashing with her stirred up emotions. "Not when you know how I feel. Not when you know I won't be content to be nothing more than some...some toy to you!"

"But you are not! Never that!" Lezard insisted.

"How can you make that claim after what you did last night?" Lenneth demanded. "When you ignore everything I tell you, and try to force a closeness between us? A closeness you have not earned the right to, no matter what my King might say!"

It was like a slap in the face, to hear her say that. But Lezard didn't sag his shoulders in defeat. "I know I can probably never meet up with a Valkyrie's lofty standards of what is worthy..." Lezard began. "But the truth of the matter is, you were given to me! By your King no less! I may not be what you wanted, but now I am what you have! We shouldn't spend this time fighting, we should be trying to get to know each other." 

"How?" Her tone was tart now. "By stealing more kisses?" He shook his head, trying to say something more. But the words were slow to come, Lenneth talking over him. "By claiming to understand my struggles but alternatively planning to seduce me?"

"No. No, of course not!"

"No? You would deny what you tried to do to me?" Lenneth demanded.

"I told you, I had too much to drink!"

"Being drunk doesn't excuse your behavior. It only makes the situation that much worse!" Lenneth exclaimed. "Lezard....you HURT me with your actions. With your carelessness."

"I don't mean to." Lezard whispered. He took another good look at Lenneth, wondering if she was bruised elsewhere. Somewhere where her clothing would hide it from sight.

"Then what did you mean to accomplish last night?!" She demanded, her sword twirling to a stop. Her gaze held him riveted, Lezard doing his best to recall the feelings he had, the intentions that had propelled him forward to kiss Lenneth. But try as he might, he wasn't remembering enough, retaining only those bits and pieces that had been stirred by her nightgown.

Lenneth looked ready to scream in response to his silence. "You kissed me!" She reminded him, eyes flashing with anger. "You kissed away my resistance, and carried me to that bed! I asked you to respect me, to respect the love enchantment I am under. Instead you tried to use me..."

"Tried to?" He questioned sharply. She gave him an odd look, then horror dawned in her expression.

"You don't even remember, do you?" Lenneth asked, her fingers clenching hard on the sword's hilt. 

He wondered what would be worse, to lie or to be truthful. Feeling sick, Lezard slowly nodded. "I'm afraid much of it is a blur. There's a few moments but otherwise..." He shrugged, wanting to lower his eyes to shield himself from the hurt of her expression. But Lezard had a hunch that if he looked away, Lenneth might try to run him through with the sword she held.

"What do you remember?"

"You." Lezard said. "How beautiful you looked in your night gown." Just the memory of her dressed like that made his heart twist in pain. "I remember talking to you, feeling both our distress. Though I can't for the life of me remember what was said!"

"Is that all?" Lenneth asked, her voice sounding odd, as if she was trying to keep from screaming.

"There was a moment in the bed. You beneath me....you smelled good..." Heat warmed his face at the admission. "But other than that..." A shrug then. "You weren't fighting in my memory." He added. It might be a foolish thing to ask, but Lezard felt he had to know why Lenneth had been so docile. "You didn't look happy, but you weren't trying to get away...."

Lenneth didn't say anything, just stared at him. She didn't even blush, but her expression hinted at some hurt Lenneth felt. Lezard shifted in place, uncomfortable. "Why didn't you fight me if you hated it so much?" Still nothing, Lezard inching closer to Lenneth. "I need to know. I have a RIGHT to know." Suddenly her arm lifted, the sword being thrust before his face.

"You have a right to nothing where I am concerned!" Lenneth hissed. He didn't bother to correct her that she was wrong. Not when it would only serve to further her anger.

"Then indulge me this one last time." Lezard begged. The sword did not lower, did not so much as shake in her grip. But Lenneth looked away from him, considering his request.

"I...I've already told you how the enchantment makes me feel. How it wreaks havoc on my emotions." Lenneth said, her words coming out a whisper he had to strain to hear. "It makes me want to love you....makes me yearn for something more than you can ever give me." He knew she was talking about love then, and felt like a fool punched in the gut. And all because Lezard knew he couldn't reveal the truth of his emotions to her.

"You should have pushed me away...."

"Don't you think I wanted to?!" Lenneth demanded. "Don't you think I tried at first?! But then you kept kissing me...suffocating me with your very nearness....overwhelming me with new sensations." The sword started to lower, Lenneth looking shaken. "Your kisses had a drugging influence on me...made it difficult to think of anything but the emotions surging in my heart." She shook her head then, sighing. "I didn't think I would be able to bare having you touch me like that....not while I am in the grip of the love spell. And I was right!"

Lenneth glared at him now. "Odin's potions are potent, and only become more effective when I am placed under such a sweet assault! How could I fight you when longing filled my every being? I wanted more of your kisses, wanted to touch and be touched. It was all I could do not to make a complete fool of myself. The only fight I could manage was to lay there and do nothing!"

"Lenneth..." His guilt had increased with every admission, he could barely stand to look at her now. 

"I know what my duty is." She continued as though he hadn't spoken her name. "I am to be your wife....but do me the courtesy of respect! Keep me from falling for you any further than I already have!" 

He couldn't even make that promise to her, for Lezard wanting nothing more than to have this love he felt for her returned. But he wasn't thrilling to her words, guilt choking him. "I...forgive me..." He whispered. He didn't tell her out loud what he begged forgiveness for, Lezard offering Lenneth a tortured look of his own. 

"I had doubts to whether or not you are a cruel man..."

"And after last night, do you still doubt?" Lezard asked.

"I am more confused than ever." She admitted to his surprise. "I can't help but wonder who the real Lezard is. The side you presented to me these last two days, or the side I saw last night when you kissed me...."

"That wasn't me! That was the drink!"

"Drinks only lower one's inhibitions." She pointed out. "It makes one all the quicker to act on desires." 

Lezard wanted to growl, to howl out Randolf's name. But he knew the blonde man wasn't entirely at fault, even if he had helped to get Lezard to the state he had been in the night before. None of the men that had been present in the dining room were truly to blame, the fault for what happened entirely on Lezard's shoulders. He wondered how Lenneth could bare to even look at him now.

"I do desire you." He said out loud. "That I will not deny or try to hide. I've wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you." That much was true, though Lenneth wouldn't know just when that first sighting had been. "But I...I would not have had our first time be some drunken coupling. You deserve better...our marriage deserves better. If I could do over again that first time, I would cherish you...worship you the way you deserve."

She gave him the strangest look then. "I wish my actions could be changed, that I hadn't caused you such distress." Lezard continued. "I can only hope in my clumsy attempts, I did not hurt you during love making."

A slow blinking of her eyes, Lenneth looking confused. The moment passed, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You think we....you think we slept together?" Now it was Lezard's turn to blink owlishly in confusion.

"Didn't we?" He asked.

She shook her head no. "You certainly wanted to though!" Hope started within him, Lezard not quite breathing as he waited for Lenneth to finish what she was saying. "No. We did not make love. We didn't even get that far, you hadn't even stripped me of my gown before you toppled forward." She didn't smile, but he swore he saw her lips twitch with amusement. "It appears the drinks were too much even for you, Lezard."

"I fell asleep?" He was relieved, but oddly disappointed. Why couldn't he have passed out before he had visited Lenneth last night? Then all of this upset and awkwardness could have been avoided!!

"Out like a light you were." Confirmed Lenneth. "I dare say not even the Gods themselves would have been able to rouse you." He opened his mouth to say something more, but Lenneth was pointing the sword again. "This doesn't excuse you from making the attempt!" She chided, eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. "And I think you'll not find me so easy a conquest next time."

His confusion must have shown, Lenneth allowing a small, smug smirk. "You caught me by surprise. I'll be wary of your kisses and touches from now on. Perhaps I'll even be strong enough to overcome both them and Odin's love potion."

"Perhaps you will." He agreed. "You have a strong will. It's served to keep you free of loving me thus far."

"A pretty way to say I am just too stubborn to fall in love." Lenneth retorted.

"Stubborn is not the word I would have used." Lezard told her.

"But you must have thought it!" Lenneth insisted.

"Not yet I haven't." Was he reply. "It doesn't mean I might not have that thought sometime in the future. But for now I am content to admire you, and your perseverance against the enchantment your King cast upon you."

"You'll have to do your admiring elsewhere. I have a sword to return." Lenneth said. He as pleased to note she walked past him without any sign of wary caution in her movements. But then again, she was armed, and Lezard had no doubt Lenneth would be quick to use that sword if he made a sudden move towards her. He sighed softly, following after Lenneth out into the hall. But it was there they went their separate ways, Lenneth intent on her errand. Lezard himself would head towards his private quarters, intent on bathing and changing into cleaner clothes.

Thoughts of Lenneth accompanied his every action, Lezard thinking on the conversation they had had. It had been upsetting, worrisome even. Lezard knew he had come close to committing a great wrong to Lenneth, one he would have had no hope of atoning for. It was only through a twist of fate that he hadn't been able to take things any further, Lezard embarrassed but relieved he had passed out on her.

But even as he thought over their conversation, remembering Lenneth's distress, other memories pressed in. He kept flashing back to that moment in the bed, when Lenneth had been beneath him. When he had buried his fingers in her hair, and leaned in to sniff her pleasing scent. He grew heated from that recollection, and even more so of the memory of how Lenneth had looked in her pretty night gown. Not even a splash of rapidly cooling water could cool him down completely, Lezard grumbling and wondering just what would happen on the night of their wedding. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued.....


	24. Twenty Four

It was well past midday before the first of the Valkyrie's ships were spotted over the horizon. The large ship was speeding along the waters, rocking violently from side to side as waves crashed against it's wooden frame. It was a wonder it didn't capsize completely, the sea stirred up by the storm the vampire mages had conjured. That storm made the sky dark, the sun blotted out by the clouds that crowded together. A constant pelt of rainwater was falling, with, thick fat drops that hit hard and fast, soaking any and everything in reach.

That first ship had been moving too fast given the conditions it found itself in. It seemed it's crew had no care for themselves or the ship they manned, plodding along at a rapid pace towards the island. The ship had been too far away that even as lightning lit up the sea, the vampires hadn't noticed the other oddity about it. They couldn't see that the deck was empty, that no one stood before the steering wheel. That ship was nothing more than an empty decoy, guided forward by magic's winds. It's sails were fully open, the wind a guiding hand that brought it to smash against the rocks.

The remains of the ship became a marker, helping other ships to avoid the rocks that made it so perilous a journey to the island's shores. Other decoy ships were sent forward, and they too were smashed apart as they came across the rocks. The waters around the beach shore of the island was a mess of planks and debris, the sea working to break apart the larger remains of the ships.

The Valkyrie ships continued to come, over a dozen ships plodding forward at a more sedate speed. One of the vampire mages would abandon his support of the storm spell, instead focusing on assaulting a ship with high cresting waves. The waves grew to be several feet high, continuously crashing against the ship until it had no choice but to flip over. This far away, they couldn't hear the screams, couldn't even see how many people had been sent to a watery grave.

The Valkyries had their own mages. But they were limited in number, just like the vampire's own mages. The spell casters tended to be favored by Queen Hel, the dark Goddess loathe to give up even a single one. The mages made use of by the vampires had been stolen from the Queen, each one a small victory that might just give them the advantage in the impending battle. 

The mages that worked with the Valkyries were ones who had turned their back on Hel and her teachings. They tended to favor healing magic above all other kinds, and had never learned the more deadly arts of their craft. But some had enough knowledge to do more than act as support for the warriors, and these were the mages the vampires would be most wary of. But before they could make a move to neutralize the Valkyrie's mages, the hunting party had to set foot onto the island.

Even at their slower speeds, it had been obvious the ships were having trouble. The mages concentrated their powers on the sea, trying to calm the waters. One of the ships began to glow with a blinding light, becoming a beacon for the others to follow as they navigated their way towards the shore. A few of the mages might even have attempted to put an end to the storm, testing their might against the vampires who had worked that particular spell. 

It would have been disastrous had the storm cleared up. There had still been hours of daylight left at that point, the sun would have sent the vampires fleeing for the safety of the castle. They wouldn't have been able to protect their island as effectively, not so long as they had to cower in shadows. Brahms had quickly ordered that every last mage work on supporting the storm's spell, not allowing them to do anything else so long as the sun was still a danger.

The ships would take over an hour before they reached the island's shores. Many a lesser vampire had been tempted to teleport onto the ships, intent on bringing the fight to the Valkyries. Wiser heads had prevailed upon them the dangers of such a maneuver. The Valkyrie would surely be prepared should any vampires appear on their ships, ready to slaughter any and all vampires who dare approach them that way,

The waiting was difficult. Not just on Brahms who wanted the fighting over with before it had begun. His people were spoiling for a fight, some of them overeager for the chance to taste Valkyrie blood. Others were incensed that the Valkyrie would dare invade their home, wanting to teach the battle maidens a lesson they would never forget. There was even some who reeked of their anxiety, nervous that they might die this day at the Valkyries' hands.

Brahms did his best to appease and calm down his people. But privately he knew as well as they did, that losses would occur on both sides of the battle. It was simple unavoidable, good people dying so that others might continue to live. But that wasn't the real reason this battle was taking place. Brahms found it difficult to meet the eyes of his people without feeling guilt. And all because he knew it was his fault that the Valkyries had come to their island home. It was an invasion that could have been avoided, could have never have happened if Brahms hadn't stolen Silmeria from the Valkyries. And yet he could not regret what he had done, Brahms knowing he would not give up the girl, not even if his own life was at stake. 

It didn't make the guilt any easier. Brahms wondered why he couldn't have fallen in love with someone who would have made less trouble for the vampires. But he was also aware of the peculiarities of the heart, how it made little sense or reason when it came to wanting what it wants. It was enough to make him want to sigh, though he held in that exasperated sound. It would not do to present anything less than a confidant front to his people.

And yet Gideon took one look at him, and knew where Brahms thoughts lay. "It troubles you." He said, his salt and pepper colored hair drenched and plastered against his scalp. 

"How can it not?" Brahms demanded. "It is because of me that this is happening. Because of my actions that the Valkyries have come to our island." Gideon didn't try to give him false reassurances, simply nodding a yes in response. It didn't help Brahms' mood, the vampire Lord began to pace the narrow walkway of the castle's ramparts. Gideon remained frozen in place, just watching as Brahms moved. "It's because I...I love her that our people will die this day."

The last had been whispered, Brahms not wanting to risk someone else overhearing those words. To any who would gaze up at the ramparts, they would see their King, his head held high, shoulders back. They would see a confidant man, a determined warrior who knew little of doubts and fears. It would reassure them, but there was little that could do away with the guilt eating away at Brahms from the inside.

"The battle has not begun in earnest." Gideon replied. "Yes, SOME of our people may die. But take comfort in knowing more will die among our enemies' ranks. Odin will rue the day he decided to allow the Valkyrie to hunt on our island."

Those words weren't as comforting as Gideon might have thought, Brahms turning to give him a bleak look. "Silmeria will HATE if the Valkyries are killed." And there in lay another of Brahms' distress. The King of the vampires was well aware of the difficult position Silmeria put him in. For every Valkyrie slain, she would use that as an excuse to hate him, and all the while Silmeria would not shed tears for any of the vampires who died this day.

"We are at war." Gideon finally said. "She was a Valkyrie. She must understand. The Valkyries bring this upon themselves, have invited death to embrace them in coming here. We cannot sit back and be invaded, anymore than they have allowed our kind to successfully run   
wild in Asgard."

"It is my worry she will not be as reasonable as you." Brahms understated the matter. "All Silmeria will see is that I caused this. By bringing her here, turning her, I all but laughed in Odin's face."

"You were daring." Gideon acknowledged. "And it is an insult Odin will not soon forget. Nor will the Valkyrie. We cannot afford to be merciful upon them, or else the fighting will never stop. You must put aside your bride's feelings, and send a message to Odin that no more of these invasions will be tolerated."

Brahms knew without Gideon finishing, that the only message Odin would understand was a slaughter. The total death of every Valkyrie and einherjar that had come to the island. It was a loss Odin would take seriously, a loss that might stay his hand from sending more hunting parties to the vampire's island. But could he afford to do such a thing where Silmeria's heart was concerned?

"Silmeria will heal over time." Continued Gideon. "She may never appreciate what has happened this day, but Silmeria will come to savor the life she still has. The eternity you gave her..."

"Or she could spend eternity hating me for what happens today." Brahms grumbled. 

"I doubt she could hate you that completely." Was that a smirk that twitched at the corners of Gideon's mouth? "Was not the moment in the ball room proof of that?"

A lesser man would have surely turned flustered, reminded that a private moment had been witnessed by so many. Brahms merely narrowed his eyes at Gideon, his voice a rough growl as he spoke. "The attraction Silmeria feels for me is nowhere near the point of guaranteeing she can be so forgiving. She may, as most fledglings do, come to appreciate the new life she has. She may even make friends among our people. All the while, despising me for what I've done."

"I hope you are wrong about her." Gideon said. "It would be a true pity to have gone to such lengths for a bride who might never return even a fraction of what you feel." Brahms snorted, the sound agitated as he resumed his pacing. "I still think given time, and a chance to calm down, Silmeria will understand. She is a warrior first and foremost. She knows of the bloodshed and death of war, and the tactics that go with the battles. The politics of it all."

"But what rules her more?" Brahms wondered out loud. "Her warrior's instinct, or her woman's heart? If it's the latter, I fear her emotions will not let her see the practical side of what is done today."

"I don't envy you the problem of Silmeria's reactions." Gideon murmured, then spoke louder. "But she is not the only problem you will have to deal with, once this invasion is over with." Brahms fought not to scowl, his angry look such that Gideon took a step back. His hands were held up in submission, showing he was harmless. "Those who would speak against you, will have a field day using this invasion against you."

"I know."

"Then you also know they will blame you. Blame your attraction to Silmeria as the reason this all happened." Gideon continued. 

"They been saying for years now that Silmeria has sapped all reason from me." Brahms reminded him. "This will be just the latest in a string of offenses as far as they are concerned."

"You've long held an...infatuation for Silmeria, it's true. But never has that infatuation led to such a catastrophe. Depending on how this day plays out, you may find more of our people siding with your enemies." Gideon sighed. "I will of course do my best to minimize damages, but it could not hurt to take a firmer hand with those who would work against you."

"And what would you have me do to them?" Brahms demanded. "Kill them? No Gideon...that will not earn me the respect of our people. Only their fear."

"I am not suggesting you do anything that overtly ruthless. However..." A slight smile, one that revealed the barest hint of fang. "Send them to the plains of Idavoll. Let the battles there remind them of the fight we wage for our existence."

"Heh...and hope that someone there kills them for me?" Brahms asked.

"If they die there, than it was as fate wills it." Gideon replied, still showing that cold little smile. "They'd certainly serve you better in Idavoll then they do here."

"Here they only grow bloated on blood..." agreed Brahms.

"Plotting all the while, behind your back." Added Gideon. "It is unfortunate you sought love at this ill opportune a time. Silmeria gives them a great advantage..."

"Don't I know it." Brahms grumbled. "But the incident at Idavoll forced my hand." He was of course referring to the time the vampires had lost control, savagely attacking and injuring Silmeria. 

"The timing couldn't have been worse." Gideon murmured. 

"None of what happened that day was good." Brahms pointed out. "I nearly lost Silmeria then."

"Take comfort that you didn't." Gideon told him. But he seemed distracted, a thoughtful look in his eyes,

"What is it?" Brahms asked him. Gideon seemed to snap out of it, long enough to shake his head.

"It's nothing. Just a thought I had that may be worth following up on at a later date and time."

Brahms was curious, wondering just what thought Gideon had had. Brahms might have pressured him to reveal it, if only to have something to distract himself from the problems at hand. But the invasion was still underway, the Valkyrie hunting party working their way through the dense forest that covered much of the island. Vampires were teleporting about the island, spying on the progress of the Valkyries. They were on no condition to engage the Valkyries and their einherjar, the task of actual fighting falling to the lesser undead that roamed the island.

The shambling ranks of the undead, the zombies and ghouls lurked in the forest. Eager to consume the flesh of the vampires' enemies. Winged nightmares rested in the branches of trees, while on the ground monsters stalked their prey. Chimeras, an abomination of monsters pieced together howled, their eerie screams sending birds to scatter in fear. There was even a bone dragon that lurked in the forest's swamp, the creature held together by ancient magics.

The Valkyries had their work cut out for them, fighting waves of these monsters. The undead creatures stood between them and the castle, a living, moving barricade the Valkyries had to overcome if they ever hoped to reach Silmeria. The unnatural shrieks of the undead dying filled the forest, matched only by the screams of the slain Asgardians.

Vampires continued to teleport, reports coming in from what they had seen. A small contingent of einherjar, led by a Valkyrie with flame colored hair had stumbled into one of the many hidden pitfalls of the island. Those who didn't die on impact after the long fall, would soon succumb from the sharp sticks and spears that had lined the hole's bottom. Of course, the Valkyrie who found herself impaled was such a treat, that one of the spying vampires had been unable to resist going to her. Even as she lay there, slowly dying from the multiple wounds she had received, she had been determined. Fierce even, swinging her sword to decapitate the vampire who had lusted after her blood. No other attempts were made on that particular Valkyrie. She was left to die in peace, body and blood safe for the moment. 

Another Valkyrie was caught, one of the winged beasts having snagged her shoulders in it's claws. The beast flew through the forest, heralding it's triumph with a repeated roar. That roar would die with a gasp, the Valkyrie having twisted enough to thrust a dagger into the sensitive underside of the monster. The dagger tore open the flesh, blood and intestines falling out, littering the forest below. 

Somehow, the Valkyrie survived the fall to the ground. Perhaps it was the many trees that helped break the speed of her fall, the woman crashing into the underbrush, and laying their stunned. Her einherjar had given chase when their Valkyrie had been captured, and now the group of men and women hurried to reach her before the zombies did.

Elsewhere, reports were coming in that a party of Valkyries were engaging the bone dragon. Their mages were working to break apart the ancient enchantment on it's bones. Weapons had little effect on the bones, an unseen life force animating the creature. The monster may have lacked the scale and skin of other dragons, but it was still capable of doing damage. The Valkyries and their einherjar were little more than nuisances, serving as a distraction from the mages that slowly unraveled it's spells.

Numbers were coming in, the estimates guessing that there was over five hundred einherjar working with the dozens upon dozens of Valkyrie present. It was an impressive number, especially compared to the only three hundred vampires on the island. Add the three hundred vampires to the one hundred and fifty types of undead present on the island, and it became difficult to predict who would ultimately win the battle.

They were pretty even on both sides when it came to sheer size of their forces. But the superior skill level of the Valkyrie and the einherjar they had personally trained began to overwhelm the monsters. Ghouls were beheaded, their bodies set on fire. The bone dragon fell apart, as arrows were launched, taking down many of the winged beasts. Little by little, the Valkyries were making inroads, progressing ever closer to the castle that lay in the heart of the forest.

It continued to rain, hours passing by until the sun had set at last. And they could not see the moon, the dark storm clouds still obscuring much of the sky. The rain water made the ground slippery, the dirt turning to mud that got into everything. The Valkyries wouldn't look so perfect, covered in blood and mud, their armors dulled with it. But nothing could shake their determination, the battle maidens and their remaining einherjar marching on the castle. Brahms would give the signal to attack, no content to wait until they were at the castle gate.

The signal was what many of the vampires had been waiting for. They went to battle with eager whoops, teleporting over to the Asgardians. There was an immediate clash of sword and claws, most vampires relying on their bodies to be the weapons that slew the Valkyries. 

Arrows would fly, the archers trying to take out the vampires that remained on the ramparts of the castle. Brahms himself would pause there, eyes scouring the field for any sign of the Valkyries that were Silmeria's sisters. Lenneth should have been easy to pick out, her platinum hair a color no other Valkyrie possessed. But there was several black haired Valkyries present, forcing Brahms to go in close to try and identify which one was Hrist.

The instant he appeared on the ground, several groups lunged towards him. Valkyries and swordsmen both, all intent on ending his life. Brahms flung out his arms, waves of power coursing off him. The energy sent his foes falling backwards, knocked off their feet so that he could prowl closer to the first of the black haired women. His progress wasn't as straight forward as he would have like, Brahms having to dodge an axe that was swung at his neck. 

He was disappointed when he reached the Valkyrie for she was not Hrist. But the woman was courageous, charging Brahms with a wild yell. He quickly side stepped her weapon, slamming a fist into her armor covered back. She cried out in pain, stumbling down onto one knee. Brahms grabbed her by the back of her hair, hauling her upright as the Valkyrie once again tried to swing her sword at him.

The sword cut through her hair. Brahms was left holding a thick hank of it, the Valkyrie free and turning to slash her sword in his direction. Brahms leapt back, the hair falling from his fist. The two enemies studied each other, the sounds of the battle waging around them fading to a dull roar. Everyone was engaged in the fight, vampires teleporting about, trying to avoid their enemies attacks, and get in close enough to land a killing blow. There was almost no room to move, so crowded was the outside of the castle's grounds.

And then his opponent's eyes narrowed, a look that betrayed her intent a moment before she lunged towards Brahms. Her sword would pass harmlessly through the space Brahms had occupied just moments ago, the vampire lord teleporting behind her. Another fist to her back, her armor splintering from the force. Brahms estimated it would take two, maybe three more poundings before it shattered open completely.

The roar of the battle drowned out individual sounds. Too many were screaming, either in challenge or in pain. The mages were chanting, their voices lost to the screams as they readied their spells. The einherjar were at times glowing, white and green lights encircling them in an attempt to heal their many wounds. Sometimes the healing magic returned to them enough stamina for them to push onward, killing several more vampires before their own injuries became too great to ignore.

The vampires weren't relying on healing magics as heavily as the einherjar were. Instead they preferred the healing properties found in the blood of their enemies, vampires grabbing onto soldiers, and tearing into their veins. Of course they had to teleport their prey elsewhere, it was simply too dangerous to remain on the battlefield and feed. Arrows continued to soar through the air, their whistle sound heralding their arrival moments before they slammed into bodies. Sometimes they speared through a vampire foolish enough to linger and feed out in the open, but more often than not Brahms' people simply teleported out of the arrows' path.

Power was gathering on the battle field. The mages of both side were working offensive spells, the einherjar taking advantage of the conjured storm to unleash lightning down on the battle field. A group of vampires were caught in it's grip, dancing with disjointed movements as the electricity crackled over their bodies. By the time the lightning had run it's course, the vampires were nothing but charred husks, laying lifeless on the ground.

The spells weren't coming as fast as they could, Brahms' people seeking out the mages that the einherjar tried to protect. The oppressive feeling of gathered power was still there, a flaming ball of fire exploding near to Brahms. It sent him and the Valkyrie he fought with flying backwards, the two crashing into a group of combatants. Everyone was knocked off their feet, Brahms rolling with his fall. Before any of his enemies could think to attack him, he was standing, slashing open someone's cheek with his claws.

Other vampires teleported to his aide, quick to engage the einherjar. Having faith his vampires would guard his back, Brahms kept his attention on the dark haired Valkyrie. Her long hair cut by her own sword, was falling haphazardly over her eyes. She constantly shook her head, trying to dislodge the wet hair that was determined to remain plastered in place.

Brahms locked eyes with her, his own narrowing a second before he made a mocking gesture, urging her to attack him. Her own eyes flashed with rage, her lips parting to release a scream he could not hear. The Valkyrie launched herself towards him, her swing wild as she tried to take his head. But Brahms had already ducked down, his fist slamming into the front of her armor. It dented inwards, over her stomach. He'd follow up that blow with an uppercut with his left fist, seeing blood and spittle fly from her mouth.

The Valkyrie would stagger back, free hand over her stomach. She was wincing, surely in pain from his assault. And yet she did not give up, did not hesitate any longer than it took her to recover from his punches. She charged, and even as Brahms moved to avoid her sword's thrust, the Valkyrie was lashing out with her leg. The kick caught him in the face, splitting his lip open. He tasted blood, his, but refused to give in to anger. And all because the Valkyrie was only doing her best to stay alive against an opponent she couldn't hope to defeat.

Brahms had been fighting for millennia. He had personally seen to the deaths of many a Valkyrie. Had fed off them, and been infused with the power of their blood. This Valkyrie before him would be no different. She wasn't even in the same league as him, being a minor nuisance at best. On the next swing of her sword, Brahms reached out to grab her wrist. He squeezed down on delicate bone, until it broke, her fingers growing too limp to hold onto the sword.

The sword clattered to the ground, Brahms stepping on the blade, breaking it with his foot. The Valkyrie was snarling, her final words lost to the screams around them. When he pulled her into his embrace, she swung wildly with her free hand, smashing a fist against his temple. Annoyed, Brahms twisted both her arms behind her back, not caring that he further aggravated her arm's injury.

He'd teleport them away from the battle, to the top of the castle's ramparts. But he did not immediately set out to feed, forcing the Valkyrie to turn around and gaze at the combatants below. The roar of the crowd was still loud, even this high up. It forced Brahms to put his lips to her ears, mouth almost caressing as he harshly made inquiries.

"Where are Silmeria's sisters!? Why are they not here?!" The Valkyrie said nothing in response to that, just held her chin high as she stared straight ahead. Brahms would continue, trying to reason with the woman. "You need not die this day. Just tell me what I want to know...Hrist and Lenneth? What do they plot? Where do they hide?"

Below them he could make out Gideon, the vampire moving effortlessly through the crowd. Death followed at his side, the vampire with the salt and pepper colored hair easily snapping necks of any Asgardian that stepped within his reach. Elsewhere, Vanidmeer was present, his hair and clothes making him a dark blur. He had apprehended a sword from one of the einherjar, and was using it to duel with a Valkyrie. Both moved with elegant grace, and deadly intent. It would be difficult to determine who would be the victor, both were so skilled.

Brahms even caught a brief glimpse of Surren, the vampiress having ditched her fine gowns for a more battle appropriate outfit. She wore a disdainful look on her face, but she was not cowering meekly from the fight. Her claws were drenched in blood, the vampiress using them effectively to tear open throats. If she survived today's battle, she would be a credit to their forces on the plains of Idavoll.

Everywhere he looked, his vampires were doing him proud. Fighting to the death if need be, all to defend the one place they could call home. Even those who were killed, died with honor, taking down as many opponents as they could manage. Brahms himself could do no less, the vampire growling as he put pressure on the Valkyrie's broken wrist. "Her sisters!! Tell me what you know!"

"Never!" The Valkyrie screamed in defiance. It signed her death warrant, Brahms' fangs lengthening in response.

"Little fool!" He managed to hiss, his claws tearing open the cloth over her neck. An instant later, his fangs were plunging into her neck, Brahms savage as he began to feed. The rich taste of her blood filled his mouth, the vampire swallowing it down greedily. A rush of power would follow the swallows, Brahms feeling his sense heightened, his strength and speed increased. With the blood of a Valkyrie pumping through him, Brahms felt as though he could take on the entire pantheon of Gods. It would be child's play to deal with the Valkyrie on his front lawn.

He finished drinking the Valkyrie to her death. A moment later her body toppled from the ramparts, landing in the midst of a battling group. The einherjar might have screamed in horror, glancing up to see the vampire King glowering down at them. Seconds later he jumped, landing heavily on his feet. Brahms would immediately attack, grabbing a man by his throat, crushing it inwards from the force of his grip.

A woman would scream from behind him, trying to bring her axe down to sever his arm. Brahms turned at the last second, letting the axe hit the body of her slain companion. Such was the force of her swing, that the axe became stuck inside the man's body. The woman appeared to be whimpering, arms making desperate jerking motions as she tried to reclaim her axe.

Brahms would fling the body at her, the woman falling over backwards. The man's body would pin her to the ground, the woman screaming, seeming hysterical. The fear coming of her would draw others to her, Brahms already turning from her in order to deal with another attacker. Punches were thrown, Brahm's fist smashing into a man's nose. He'd grab another by the back of his scalp, and knock his head against another einherjar's.

He'd lose himself to the predator inside him, blood and guts exploding around him as he began tearing apart einherjar. His claws would slash, tear, even rend apart. There was too many dead for him to feed, Brahms leaving a mountain of corpses in his wake. And all the while the Valkyries Hrist and Lenneth continued to remain elusive. If Brahms hadn't given into a killing rage, he would have found it more suspicious than he did. 

He continued to fight, to kill, to maim. Another Valkyrie would engage him, bravely marching to her death. They would be in the midst of exchanging blows, when a vampire would teleport besides Brahms. The vampire Lord refused to be distracted from his prey, grabbing her by the arm, prepared to break it. The vampire besides him took an unsteady step forward, and slowly Brahms realized the man was badly injured. And still he did not take his eyes off the Valkyrie he had in his grasp, not until the vampire let out a wheezing gasp. 

"Silmeria!"

Instantly Brahms' attention was captured. "What about Silmeria?!" Brahms demanded, head butting the Valkyrie. Blood trickled out of her nose, the woman dazed for the moment. 

"Danger..." moaned the vampire, as the Valkyrie resumed her struggles. "Inside the castle. They've come..."

His stomach seemed to knot up in fear, chasing back the killing instinct for the moment. "Silmeria's sisters!" Brahms gasped knowingly. The Valkyrie in his arms stamped on his foot, Brahms reacting by snapping her neck. She went lifeless in his arms, slumping to the muddied ground the instant he let go. "How large a party is the intruders?!"

"Not many..." wheezed the vampire around a mouthful of blood. "But...inside...it's a slaughter....so many of our people dead..." And from the looks of this man, he didn't have much longer to live himself. Not with the many bleeding wounds all over his body.

"Feed." Brahms ordered, gesturing at the dead Valkyrie laying at his feet. "Her blood may save you yet."

"Thank you Lord Brahms..." The vampire seemed to collapse, no longer having the energy to stand. He would drag himself forward on hands and knees, staring hungrily at the dead Valkyrie. Her blood would already be cooling inside her body, the power fleeing. But there was still a chance she could save this vampire, even though she was already dead.

Brahms didn't have time to watch over and protect the feeding vampire. He didn't even have time to alert Gideon to where he was going. His sense of urgency was too strong for any more delays, Brahms catching an arrow just before it buried into his heart. He looked up and met the eyes of the archer who had taken aim at him, spying another Valkyrie. She was already putting another arrow to her bow, her einherjar fighting to keep the vampires away from her. 

He didn't have time to deal with her, and didn't care if the Valkyrie thought him a coward. He tensed to teleport, when his instincts screamed a warning. Brahms turned, it was the only thing that saved him from a more severe wound. The Valkyrie who had tried to impale him with her spear, scowled, furious. Brahms snarled, enraged as he worked to pull the spear out of his side. He didn't have time to play with this woman, with any of the Valkyries. But even as he slowly got the spear out of the wound, more arrows were flying his way. Brahms let out a frustrated scream, bellowing out Silmeria's name, all his anger and worry for her in that sound. His scream was so loud, it seemed to rise above the roar of the crowd, causing many on both sides to stop and stare. Even shiver in fear. They heard and recognized the sound of a predator who feared for the life of his mate. It was a fear that would make him do anything, kill anyone to get to her. And damn anyone who tried to stop him in the process.

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To Be Continued....


	25. Twenty Five

The sounds of the battle could not be drowned out, the roar of the screaming voices carrying over to the rear of the castle. It was there to greet Silmeria when she stirred, leaving her to awake in confusion. For one brief moment, as she drifted in the in-between state of slumber and wakefulness, Silmeria thinking she was back on the plains of Idavoll. It wasn't an entirely reassuring thought, Silmeria frowning, thinking she had been felled by a foe in battle. And with that assumption, she tensed, expecting claws to tear into her. 

Silmeria would be in the midst of stretching out her arm, trying to feel for her sword when the softness beneath her body registered. This was no firm ground she lay on, no sharp blades of grass pricking into her exposed skin. She was in a bed, and with that realization her eyes snapped open, Silmeria lurching up right. There was no Brahms to greet her, but then she wasn't surprised. Not with the sounds Silmeria was hearing, the girl realizing war had come to the island.

Something close to excitement filled her, Silmeria lurching out of bed. Her new skirt fell just short of the floor, Silmeria moving gracefully in it. The sounds continued, Silmeria hurrying over to the room's window. She wanted to press against it, to peer out of it. But Silmeria was conscious of the spell enchanted on the window, the one that would zap and burn her. But even if she didn't touch the window, she could hear the sounds all the louder. As well as scent many different smells, Silmeria's fangs lengthening in response to all the blood that was being spilled.

Her inner predator was roused, Silmeria wanting to go out and revel in the bloodshed. To join in the fighting. But she knew neither side would welcome her. The vampires were wary, even frightened of her strength. If the other side was the Valkyries, then their mission was clear. They were here to kill Silmeria, and would not tolerate any help she might offer them.

And yet that didn't stop Silmeria from wanting to fight. She didn't know how the battle was going, how each side was faring. There was nothing to see from her window, the fighting far removed from this side of the castle. She had only sound to go on, and the noise was so muddled together Silmeria could tell nothing of what was actually happening.

It left her frustrated, the girl pacing about the room. She grumbled constantly under her breath, Silmeria glaring at both door and window. She'd even attempt to open the door, only to get her palm and fingers charred by an enchantment that was similar to the one on the window. The confinement spell wasn't going to let her out any time soon, Silmeria growling lowly as she rubbed her burnt hand on her dress' skirt.

She might have even muttered a curse, damming Brahms in her mind. Silmeria couldn't stand being locked up, her situation made a million times worse by the fact a war was being waged just out of sight of her. A war that was over Silmeria, over whether she would live or die this night. To Silmeria it was a pointless battle, people going to needless deaths. She didn't want to live, not as a vampire. She didn't want to feed, didn't want her soul to be damned simply because of the monster she had become. The vampires were killing, all to keep Brahms' bride alive. They were intent on taking her choices away, wanting to force her to be with them and their King.

Her agitation mounted by the minute, Silmeria pacing even more. She worried for the Valkyrie and einherjar that had come to the island. Worried for those that would die this night. But more than that, she began to think of her sisters. It was not happy thoughts, Silmeria remembering the threats Brahms had made, the vows he had sworn. He would kill Hrist and Lenneth, and all because they came to free Silmeria from a soulless existence.

She knew her sisters wouldn't go down easily. But she also remembered that Brahms was the ultimate predator, a monster that had been killing Valkyrie for a millennia. Silmeria had no way of knowing if her sisters could defeat Brahms, if there was even a chance for any of the Valkyrie to win. Their chances would become even more slim should Brahms feed off of any of the Valkyrie present on the island.

Silmeria would pause in her pacing to pray, begging Odin to heed her words. But she didn't know if the God would even listen to her, Silmeria fearing her prayers fell on deaf ears. What God would listen to the prayers of a vampire, even one with a soul? But still she prayed, hoping fervently that someone would hear, and allow a miracle to take place.

Praying took up time, but not enough of it. Silmeria would resuming pacing, her claws curling as a sign of mounting aggression. She wanted to scream, as if that would somehow release some of her tension. How long had she been trapped inside this room? Just waiting, listening to the sounds of a battle she could not take part in? Was it hours? Or was it minutes? She could not tell, the moon hidden from her. The sky itself was obscured by dark gray storm clouds, rain constantly pelting the island. She knew enough to know it wasn't a natural storm, but something conjured up by the mages.

Amidst all the fighting, an explosion would sound. It would rattle the very walls of the castle, Silmeria stumbling about as she tried to regain her footing. The roar of the outside battle continued, Silmeria trying to use her enhanced hearing to pick and choose the sounds she would hear. But she had no training, the sounds many, and near deafening to her. She could only pick up bits and pieces, voices yelling, footsteps running.

And then amidst all that, Silmeria heard a woman's voice. Stern but with enough emotion to be angry. She couldn't make out the woman's words, just hear the rage that boiled in her voice. More voices shouted, another explosion of sound occurring. Silmeria lost the woman's voice, left to wonder who that was and what it all meant.

The sounds continued, the roar from outside nowhere as loud as the noise that was coming from within the castle. Even more running was heard, the footsteps echoing loudly. Metal clanged, armor jingling. Sounds she recognized. Vampires very rarely bothered with armor, Silmeria knew that from experience. That left only one other that might be here in the castle, dressed so.

Her heart began to beat faster, Silmeria finding her palms began to sweat with nervous perspiration. She'd repeatedly wipe them on her skirts, trying to get them to stay dry. Sounds of fighting would accompany the footsteps, voices screaming as they died. There was many screams of agony, dozens upon dozens dying. Silmeria could smell the blood, the fighting coming ever closer to her. Her own fangs lengthened in response, that damnable hunger upon her. She ignored the starvation pangs, backing away from the bedroom's door. Tensing in preparation for whatever, whoever was about to come through that door.

Another explosion sounded, and this time the door was blown off it's hinges. Silmeria heard a voice scream. "Stop! You mustn't...!" And then a dying gurgle. The woman had been silenced, her killer quick and efficient. The door fell the rest of the way in the room, the smoke of the explosion obscuring the person who had kicked it inwards.

Silmeria was prepared to lunge forward at the slightest threat, her claws hidden in the folds of her skirt. Silmeria knew who she hoped was at the door, but also knew enough to realize it might very well be Brahms who had come for her. The smoke was thick, and smelt of fire and gun powder. It confused her sense of smell, Silmeria trying not to choke on the smoke.

The screams in the hall had died. Slow, steady footsteps sounded, the kind that was made from metal greaves. Then the heavy thud of them on the wood of the door, someone walking over it. The smoke had not yet cleared, but Silmeria could make out the shadows of the figure approaching. It was a woman, recognizable by the shapes of her skirts, and the feathered helm she wore over her hair.

Silmeria knew it was a Valkyrie, knew it had to be one of her sisters come at last to rescue her. Something like tears might have welled up in her eyes, but the former Goddess was too proud to let them fall. She blinked rapidly, letting the moisture blur her vision an instant before it cleared. The smoke wasn't as thick now, seeming to part to reveal the figure of the Valkyrie.

She was tall, statuesque. Had dark eyes that were piercing. They were offset by the rich ebony of her hair, which hung down her back absolutely straight. Her skin was lightly tanned. This Valkyrie had spent more nights than days on the plains of Idavoll, though she was nowhere near close to being pale like a vampire. Her armor was a vivid purple, a color that was stained by the smears of blood that dripped down it's metal. Silmeria tried not to look at the blood, tried to ignore the hunger that spiked at the sight of it.

Instead she stared at the dark haired Valkyrie, something in her chest beginning to swell with painful emotion. Silmeria licked lips that had gone too dry, blinked one more time, and than was stepping towards her eldest sister.

"Hrist!"

That was all Silmeria got to say, and then another shadow was moving through the smoke. Instinct had Silmeria jump back just in time, a large sword swinging where she would have been. Silmeria gasped, her hand going to her throat as though to reassure her that she still had her head attached. Her eyes had widened, Silmeria taking another leap back as a man emerged from the smoke, swinging a blade that was almost as long as him.

"Hrist?!"

"Arngrim, that's enough!" Her eldest sister snapped. The brown haired man seemed to scowl, his eyes glinting with menace as he looked at Silmeria. But at Hrist's sharp command, he stepped back though he did not lower his sword. Instead he held it in front of him, arms bent so that he took up a defensive stance. The smoke continued to dissipate, the Valkyrie Hrist walking past the einherjar she had named Arngrim.

Sounds continued in the hall, Silmeria realizing there must be more einherjar out there. Maybe even another Valkyrie. Her heart gave another painful clench, Silmeria wondering if Lenneth was here as well. Lenneth might be fighting off the remaining vampires to buy Hrist the time needed to save Silmeria's soul. Again her eyes grew wet with tears she refused to shed, Silmeria staring bravely at her oldest sister.

Hrist stopped a foot away from Silmeria. It was a foot too close for the overly muscular einherjar, his whole body tensing. He had to know as well as the women did, that if Silmeria wanted to do harm to Hrist, this close he wouldn't have been able to stop her in time. But right now, Silmeria couldn't think of anything beyond an odd sort of grief at seeing her eldest sister.

"Good." Hrist's voice was startling after what seemed an eternity of silence. She had been staring into Silmeria's face, nodding her approval of what she saw. "Your eyes are still your own." Instantly Silmeria realized Hrist had been looking to see if any crimson had colored her eyes, the former Valkyrie lifting her hands to touch her face.

"I have not fed." She announced, but her voice was more shaky than proud in the moment. Her hunger was flaring, Silmeria thinking she could smell the power charged blood that flowed in her sister's veins. It made her lust for it, made Silmeria want to step closer to Hrist, pull her sister into her embrace and feed at long last. It was a horrifying thought, Silmeria's expression distorting.

"Not yet you haven't." Arngrim growled. Hrist's eyes flickered, the woman speaking harshly.

"Arngrim be silent!" 

He didn't like that command, but he obeyed it. And all the while he stared at Silmeria, trusting the einherjar in the hall to guard his back from danger. Just as he tried to guard Hrist from Silmeria.

"He's right." Silmeria said miserably. "I may not have fed, but soon I will have no choice." She bit her lip, and tried to avoid staring at Hrist's neck. Somehow Silmeria managed to maintain eye contact with her sister, her hands clenching into helpless fists. "The urge to feed grows stronger every night....the blood calls to me....your blood calls to me." She admitted with some shame.

Hrist did not take offense, softening enough to allow the smallest of smiles. "Worry no more sister. It is why I have come here. I will put an end to your hunger." But a hard expression was in her eyes, Hrist would not take any pleasure out of killing Silmeria.

The right thing would have been to demand Hrist end it now, but Silmeria found herself delaying. As though she wanted to cling to one more second of life, even as that second put them all at risk to her unnatural hungers. "Where is Lenneth? Where is our sister?" Hrist's dark eyes flickered, a depth of emotion flashing by to fast for Silmeria to grasp the meaning of it. "Hrist?"

"Lenneth is not here."

"Not here?!" Silmeria gasped. "Then....?" The worst thought had come to her, Silmeria wondering if Lenneth had died during the attempt to invade the island.

"Lenneth was disgraced by Brahms." Hrist explained, unable to maintain her dispassionate tone of voice. "Odin did not take kindly to her failure..."

Some of her hunger was forgotten, fear for Lenneth taking over. "What happened to Lenneth?" She demanded.

"She was retired." Hrist told her, Silmeria's frowning in response. "Placed under the enchanted sleep, and given away to some undeserving man."

"No." breathed out Silmeria. She knew that to Lenneth, Odin had given her a fate worse than death. Bad enough that Lenneth be given away, but to force her to undergo an enchantment that would make her forever devoted, forever enslaved by love? It was cruel, it was unthinkable. "He goes too far..." Silmeria said out loud. "Her failure was undeserving of so grand a punishment..."

"It was not just you our sister lost to the vampires that day." Hrist reminded her. "There were others..."

"We were outnumbered!" Silmeria exclaimed. "Overwhelmed. There was nothing Lenneth could do....." Nothing but survive the massacre. And yet Odin did not seem to care that a valued Valkyrie had been returned to him. Instead he chose to focus on the negatives, on a thing that had been out of Lenneth's control from the moment they had left Valhalla.

"It is not up to us to decide what Lenneth could and could not do." Hrist retorted. "Odin has made his judgement....Lenneth is Valkyrie no more. I cannot save her. But I can save you."

"Yes. Of course." Silmeria bowed her head. But she didn't think it fair what had happened to Lenneth. 

The sound of a sword being drawn out of it's leather scabbard drew Silmeria's head back up. Hrist had her sword in hand, the blade clean and shining. "I will make it quick, painless." Hrist told her. "You will not feel a thing." 

The words were stuck in Silmeria's throat, her chest hurting something awful. And yet she found herself dropping to her knees, her eyes intent on Hrist's sword. She tried not to tense, but alarms were going off in her head, voices screaming in protest at the wrongness of this situation.

Hrist was showing no such hesitation, gazing down at Silmeria with dark, unfathomable emotion. "I will pray for you sister. Pray that your soul finally finds peace." The sword was lifting, Silmeria transfixed by the blade. But memories were playing in her mind, Silmeria seeing herself as a little girl. Barely anything more than a child, and playing with her sisters' swords. Another flash, and then she was older, fourteen and running away from home. Foolishly eager to join her sisters on the battlefield. They should have returned her home immediately. Hrist and Lenneth would actually argue over what to do with the young Silmeria. But she hadn't gone home, actually being accepted at that young age into the ranks of Valkyrie.

What seemed like a thousand battles flashed through her mind, with little difference between them. One fight after another melding seamlessly, until she had met HIM. The Vampire King. He had toyed with her when he should have been her death. That encounter would change both their lives, set them on a new course of destiny that brought them to meet again and again.

Silmeria saw that strange night on the back roads of Idavoll. Replayed the moment when Brahms had kissed her. It would have been a good memory to die on, but others came. And with them regrets, Silmeria mourning that she had never experienced true laughter. There was so many things she had never gotten to experience. So many things that would be forever denied her once she was dead by Hrist's sword. Silmeria mourned the fact she had never taken the time to smell flowers, or savor the beauty of a sunlit day. But more than that, Silmeria wished she had connected closely with someone who wasn't just another member of her family. 

Now Silmeria wished she had taken the time to grow into adult hood, to stay among her family's city and experience life the way other girls her age would have. There could have been time amidst the training, to stop and play. To dance. To laugh. Even to fall in love. 

The tears she would not shed were burning her eyes, Hrist's sword swinging towards her neck. And with that whoosh of air, the tight feeling in Silmeria's chest burst. Damn it, she wanted to live! Even if she was a vampire. Even if she was some kind of freakish abomination. 

The realization came almost too late, Silmeria falling backwards onto the floor. But not before she sustained a cut on her neck, one that bled heavily. Silmeria lay on her back for one brief second, feeling laughter bubble out of her. Arngrim was cursing, and Hrist seemed frozen by the sound. She must have thought Silmeria had snapped, and indeed the laughter bordered on hysterical.

Rolling from side to side, Silmeria continued to laugh, hugging herself now. She was alive, and she would try to make the most of it. Even if she could never return to Asgard. She would simply find a new way to live. Silmeria wasn't all accepting of the vampire lifestyle in this instant. There was much she still had to work out for herself. But the important thing was she wanted the chance to try.

"Silmeria!" Hrist had recovered, angry. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Silmeria heard the swing of Hrist's sword, the Valkyrie trying again to kill her sister. Silmeria immediately rolled out of the way, hearing the sword hit against the stones of the floor. The blade did not shatter, Hrist turning to track Silmeria's movements. Silmeria did a back kick, lurching upright before turning to look at her sister. Her laughter had died down, Silmeria trying not to smile. And all because she knew Hrist would not be pleased with what she had decided.

Hrist's eyes were glittering dangerously, the Valkyrie studying Silmeria. The blonde did not have to feign being contrite in the moment, offering an apology. "I am sorry sister. But I won't be dying this day."

"What are you saying?!" Hrist demanded.

"I won't be dying this day, or any other." Silmeria continued. "I have decided to live...live as best I can."

"You've truly taken leave of your senses!" Hrist snapped. "As if Odin, as if any of us would allow you to endanger your soul in this manner!"

"I have only one life to live. Do not begrudge me the desire to experience all I can with it."

"Madness!" shouted Hrist. "You speak unforgivable words Silmeria!"

"Is it unforgivable to want to live?!"

"YES!" screamed Hrist, lunging forward. Her sword would slash open the front of Silmeria's dress, the girl reacting too slow in the moment. But her skin remained whole, Silmeria unscarred save for the cut on her neck. Hrist would scowl, expression twisted into something ugly as she continue to swing and slash at Silmeria. The blonde was on the move, constantly leaping out of reach of her sister's sword. That served only to infuriate the dark haired Valkyrie, Hrist letting out a vicious curse. "Damn you, Silmeria, be still!"

"No sister." Silmeria told her, side stepping a thrust meant to spear into her heart. "I will not go meekly to my death." But she wasn't prepared to fight Hrist either, Silmeria left with no choice but to maneuver out of her sister's reach.

"You make this far more difficult than it has to be!" An exasperated Hrist exclaimed.

"I am sorry sister, but I will not, cannot just lay down and die!"

"You're already dead!" Hrist was vicious, snapping angrily as she swung her blade toward Silmeria's neck. "You're just a corpse animated by some unholy force." That gave Silmeria's a moment's hesitation, the girl throwing her arms up in time to protect her neck. But not her skin, her flesh splitting, blood dripping down her arms. Something inside her snarled, enraged that she would allow such an injury. Silmeria fought to control the beast inside her, the girl not wanting to turn on her own sister in violence.

"I don't know what continues to give me life, it's true." Silmeria said. "But I have not changed. Not inside where it counts. I am still the person that I was, still the sister that loves you and Lenneth."

"Lies!" screamed Hrist. Silmeria heard movement from behind her, and she did a sideways roll to avoid Arngrim's blade. "You are a monster." Continued Hrist, the Valkyrie working with her einherjar in an attempt to corner and trap Silmeria. "You have no concept of love, of family, of connections." Silmeria remembered how Brahms had told her being a vampire hadn't changed who she was, hadn't distorted the love she felt for her sisters. She also remembered how she had insisted it was only because she still retained her soul, that Silmeria was capable of that love. Such thoughts made her hesitate, another cut appearing on her arm. If it had been Arngim's large blade, that arm would have been severed for sure.

"I still feel. I still love!" insisted Silmeria, ducking to the right. She was ready to make a run for the open doorway, but Arngrim anticipated her intent. The large warrior took up position in front of the doorway, muscles seeming to ripple as his hands gripped his heavy blade. 

"You know only lusts." Hrist sneered. "The blood calls to you, even now. It will be the end of you, damn you and steal away your soul! And you would let it, all because you are too craven and cowardly to accept what must be done!"

"It's true the blood calls to me!" Silmeria agreed, back hitting a wall as she avoid Hrist's next two thrusts. "But it won't rule me! I can, will master it!"

"And what of the people who will die while you struggle for a control that will never come to you?!" demanded Hrist.

"I need not drink anyone to death!" Silmeria protested. "Brahms...He told me we can take just what we need, and it need not result in death."

"Brahms?!" scoffed Hrist. "You would believe his lies?! Are you that desperate to cling to life, to believe you can be different?!"

"I know I can be!" screamed Silmeria.

"You can't!" Hrist screamed back. "Now be silent and die!" 

"I won't!" Silmeria cried, ducking under Hrist's blade. The Valkyrie had anticipated that, her leg lifting up in a high kick that caught Silmeria in the face. She was staggered, falling against the wall, feeling blood on her lips. Her shaking hands touched her torn lip, and then Silmeria's eyes narrowed, the first real rage she had felt since Hrist's arrival, washing over her.

"I will not stand here and go meekly to my death!" Silmeria screamed, and this time when she avoided Hrist's blade, she took care to slash her claws over the front of Hrist's armor.

"If it's a fight you want, then you shall have it!" Hrist was grim. eyes narrowed into a glare as she tightened her hold on her sword. Silmeria still had the wall to her back, limiting her choice in movements. She needed to get clear of it, needed the space to dance and weave around her sister.

"I don't want to fight you!" Silmeria exclaimed. "I just want the chance that was denied to me! The chance for life...."

"That chance was stolen from you the minute the vampire made you into one of his own kind!" Hrist reminded her. "There is no going back!"

"You're right. I can only move forward now!" Silmeria snapped, and reached out with the preternatural speed of a vampire. She heard Hrist gasp, the Valkyries wrist being held by Silmeria. The blonde would squeeze down, but Hrist was stubborn, refusing to drop her sword. Instead she would use her left hand, slapping it across Silmeria's face. Silmeria would snarl, revealing the full length of her fangs in warning. "I don't want to hurt you!" But she knew her sister could make no such claims.

"Hrist!" It was Arngrim, his face concerned. 

"Arngim, don't come any closer!" Hrist shouted, never taking her eyes off of Silmeria. She slapped her younger sister once and then a third time, trying to render her senseless in the moment. It hurt, but Silmeria didn't let go of Hrist's wrist, still working to squeeze her into releasing her sword. She had a feeling Hrist would not drop it until her bones broke, but Silmeria didn't want to go that far.

"Hrist, stop it!" pleaded Silmeria.

"I won't stop until you're dead." Hrist told her, and her hand moved to the leg slit in her skirt. She'd palm a dagger from a sheathe she had strapped to her thigh, Hrist moving to stab it into Silmeria. The blonde felt the first pinprick of the dagger piercing her flesh. She immediately let go of Hrist's wrist, shoving the Valkyrie away from her. The dagger hadn't gone in deep, Silmeria relieved she had halted her sister's attempt to gut her.

Hrist staggered back a few steps, attempting to remain upright from the violent shove Silmeria had given her. By the time she recovered, Silmeria had moved away from the wall, going to stand near the center of the bedroom. Hrist spun in place, her sword lifting to point at her sister. "There is no room for mercy. You either fight me with sincere effort, or you WILL die."

"I don't want either of us to die!" Silmeria exclaimed. Hrist still had the dagger, and now she heft it, throwing it at Silmeria. She would duck it, hearing the thud as it embedded itself into the headboard of the bed. By the time Silmeria straightened, Hrist was in front of her, bringing down her sword with the attempt to cleave her sister in half. 

Silmeria's shriek turned into a snarl, the girl grabbing both of Hrist's arms. It stopped the sword an inch from Silmeria's head, the two sisters struggling against each other. Their eyes met, both flashing with emotion though Hrist was far angrier than Silmeria. The blonde would let out an exasperated sigh, and then bring up her knee, ramming it into the armor over Hrist's stomach.

Breath was forcefully expelled from Hrist, the armor plating denting inwards. Silmeria would repeat the maneuver, seeing how the armor began to splinter in response to her strength. It would break apart under a continued assault, Silmeria bringing her knee up a third time. Hrist did not let go of the sword, instead using her leg to sweep out Silmeria's footing.

Silmeria fell, pulling Hrist down with her. The sword came perilously close to striking Silmeria's face, the tip sparking against the stone floor. Silmeria swung her arm, punching her sister right in the face. Hrist let out a grunt of pain, rolling off her. She took the sword with her, both women lurching up right. Hrist had her free hand to her face, checking to see if anything had been broken or dislocated from Silmeria's punch.

"Please..." Silmeria tried again, wanting to reason with her sister. "We don't..."

"Enough!" snarled Hrist, doing a diagonal slash in Silmeria's direction. But it was a half hearted feint, meant more to silence Silmeria than to do any real damage. Silmeria would jump backwards to avoid it, Hrist following with a more determined thrust. The two would dance about the room, furniture being damaged or knocked over as Hrist worked to try and end Silmeria's life.

It was difficult to avoid the attacks, especially in such a confined space like the bedroom. Silmeria wanted to run out into the hall, but Arngrim blocked the way. She'd continue to just barely evade Hrist's attacks, and then new screams would come from the hall. Hrist barely reacted to the screams, but Arngrim flinched.

"Shit." He said, turning to face the door now. "That was Maribelle." Another scream. "And Joviar!" More screams would come, too many for them to keep track of. The tide was turning in the hallway, something---someone killing the einherjar. And still Hrist continued to attack, Silmeria constantly having to defend herself. She'd leap back and up, finding herself clinging to the corner where ceiling met the top of wall. It kept her just out of reach of Hrist's sword, the two sisters' locking eyes.

"Sister...please...." Silmeria tried one last time to get through to Hrist.

"Don't call me that. Not after what you've become!" Hrist snapped, looking as though she might throw her sword at Silmeria. But before she could follow up on that attempt, the air seemed to shimmer between them. Not even seconds later, the vampire King himself stood between Hirst and Silmeria. His back was to the blonde, she could not see the expression of rage on his face. But she could sense the intensity of his emotions, the anger rolling off him.

Hrist let out a curse, and leapt back just in time to avoid the fist Brahms aimed at her face. Silmeria allowed herself to drop down to the floor behind him, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Don't kill her! Don't kill my sister!"

Brahms gave no sign of understanding. He was growling, at times snarling as he stalked forward towards Hrist. All his attention seemed to be for the Valkyrie, leaving Silmeria to truly fear for Hrist's life.

"There's no reasoning with a monster!" Hrist shouted to her. Silmeria feared that at this point, there really was no chance of getting through to Brahms. But then he spoke, his voice a gravel like rumble. 

"Not as big a monster as a woman who would kill her own sister."

Hrist seemed to blanch in response to that accusation. "I do what must be done!" Hrist said when she had recovered. "The only choice left to me, after you stole Silmeria from us!"

"Yes, I stole her." Brahms agreed. "And I mean to keep her."

"We shall see about that!" Hrist snarled, but she didn't make the first move. Instead she waited, studying Brahms as they circled closer to each other. Silmeria studied him too, seeing how his normally spiky hair had been plastered flat from the rains that had fallen outside. His claws were long, sharp and deadly and covered in the blood the rain had not washed away.

Hrist had also noticed the blood, and not just on his claws. The front of his chest was covered in it, the green vest damp with it. "Look at him." Sneered Hrist. "Look at what he is....what you will become if you allow yourself to give in! I can save you from that....I can set you free...."

"You have to get by me first!" Brahms roared, and lunged towards Hrist, his claws extended for the kill. 

"I will not allow you to harm her!" Arngrim snarled, his sword swinging towards Brahms from behind. Silmeria screamed, not sure who she was more concerned for. Her sister, Brahms, or herself.

Brahms teleported out of the way, appearing behind Arngrim. The einherjar quickly turned, bringing his blade up in time to defend against the vampire's claws. The two men stared at each other, their eyes narrowed as they took stock of their opponent. Arngrim now stood between Hrist and Brahms, and the look of determination on his face spoke of how he would not easily allow the vampire to go near the Valkyrie.

"Arngrim!" Hrist was livid. "Stand down! This is my fight!"

"Sorry my lady. No can do." Arngrim answered without taking his eyes off of Brahms. "I have sworn to protect you."

"Are you that dedicated to your Valkyrie that you would die for her?" demanded Brahms in a gruff tone of voice.

"I would do so gladly." Arngrim answered without hesitation. "Hrist! Finish what you came here to do!" It was clear he intended to buy her the time needed to kill Silmeria. All by being a distraction for the vampire Lord.

"It is not Silmeria who will die this day!" That was all the warning Brahms gave before he lunged towards Arngrim. His right arm was at a high angle, claws ready to tear open the einherjar's face. His other arm was going in for a low blow, intent on the exposed abdomen of the warrior's body. But Arngrim wasn't so foolish as to allow Brahms near, swinging his large sword so that the vampire had to teleport out of the way to avoid be severed in half.

The instant Brahms teleported, Hrist moved. She ran towards Silmeria, sword in hand, intent on bringing death to her sister. Silmeria could no longer watch the fight between the two men, forced to engage in one of her own. She was desperate to live, and yet did not know how to end the fight without hurting, maybe even killing her own sister. She let out a furious shout, all her frustration in the sound as she began jumping back to avoid Hrist's relentless swings. And all the while, the battle outside the castle continued to wage, the vampires and Asgardians fighting furiously to come out on top.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	26. Twenty Six

The predator inside him was screaming, the scream an enraged sound that demanded blood and death to all who stood in Brahms' way. It hadn't been appeased by the many who had already died, the many Brahms had killed in his attempts to get to Silmeria in time. He was covered in blood, some of it his, but most of it not. And still the urge to rend apart any and all consumed him. 

It might have led to his own destruction, but Brahms was able to pull back some of that rage. To keep from going completely mindless from the overwhelming need to find and protect his bride. He used the beast inside him, channeling it's rage into his hands. People fell broken before him, throats crushed or torn out, chests caved in. It was brutal but effective, Brahms absolutely without mercy as he tore into the einherjar that lurked inside the castle.

The halls were lined with bodies, an effective testament to his rage. He had lingered only long enough to make sure every last one of them was dead. They had taken only seconds to kill, and even that might have been too long a delay! Everything was working against him, from the combatants both outside and inside, to his own body. Brahms felt the pain of his wounds, especially the one where a spear had attempted to impale straight through him. The pain made it difficult to concentrate long enough to focus on teleporting more than short distances.

It was a delay. One he could not afford, but had to tolerate. Brahms used his preternatural speed, rushing through the castle. Exerting himself as he pushed past the pain to get to the rear of the building. He brought a swift and sudden death to all he encountered, Brahms being showered in blood and gore as his claws made short work of his enemies.

Vaguely he heard the screams, the einherjar frightened by the vicious way he killed their companions. There were screams from outside as well, his vampires fighting the Valkyries, keeping them from taking the castle. And yet they hadn't been as successful as they thought. At least one Valkyrie had gotten inside. Brahms did not know or linger on how the breach had been accomplished. His every thought was consumed by urgency, the need to get to Silmeria before she was killed.

He truly felt fear in this moment. A fear he hadn't felt for centuries, maybe even millennia. And never for another person. But he felt it now, the fear magnified. And all because he knew Silmeria wanted to die. Might even be laying her life down at this very moment, all on some desperate hope that her soul would be saved. If Brahms hadn't been so frightened, he would have snorted. He knew it didn't matter if she fed or not, Odin would never allow a vampire paradise. Even one that had once been a Valkyrie.

More screams sounded, though they were fewer in number. A man, a mage by the look of his robes, tried to run from the vampire King. Brahms didn't have time to pursue him. Instead he snagged a dagger off of a corpse, flinging it into the back of the fleeing mage. The dagger found it's mark, the man's scream dying on a gurgled out gasp.

Brahms could hear other voices, raised loud to shout out in anger. There wasn't true fear in the screams, but there was a kind of desperation. He didn't have time to concentrate on the words, sure he recognized one of the voices as Silmeria. He still wasn't on the right floor, but her room was right above where he stood. Brahms grit his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he forced himself to focus on something other than the pain of his wounds. And with that focus, he felt the energy ripple through him. The magics was quick working once activated, Brahms one moment in the hall beneath Silmeria's bedroom, the next standing right between the two sisters.

He took stock of the situation in an instant, seeing Hrist with her blade out in the open. Silmeria was behind him, but he SMELLED the blood spilling out of her. His anger racketed up several notches, Brahms reacting almost with blind instinct to protect her. Even as Silmeria screamed at him not to harm Hrist, he was throwing a fist at the Valkyrie. The dark haired battle maiden just barely managed to avoid it, leaping backwards.

Silmeria continued to plead, all but begging for her sister's life. In that moment he was beyond answering, Brahms stalking forward to advance on the Valkyrie. His intent was to kill, to live up to the promise he had made Silmeria. Hrist would die, and all because she had tried to kill Silmeria. It mattered not that Silmeria may have wanted the death. She belonged to him, just as surely as Brahms was owned by Silmeria. And with that owning, he was determined to protect her. From her sister, from Odin, even from her own foolish wishes.

He was preparing to lunge, to end Hrist's life when the dark haired Valkyrie spoke. Calling him a monster, one that was beyond reasoning. Brahms wanted to laugh, thinking it absolutely absurd that the woman would deem him that when she was about to do the unthinkable to her own sister. He told her as much, watching as the Valkyrie blanched in response to his cruel observation. 

"Not as big a monster as a woman who would kill her own sister."

Hrist would make excuses, claiming she did what must be done. She'd even try to blame Brahms, as if throwing in his face the fact that he had set these events into motions with Silmeria's kidnapping would somehow justify what she had come to do. It did not, Brahms telling her in no uncertain terms that he was guilty of theft, Silmeria the prize he meant to keep. 

Other words and insults would be exchanged. Brahms' inner predator snarling, thinking words for the weak. The Valkyrie Hrist was only delaying the inevitable as far as he was concerned. When Hrist began talking about saving Silmeria, saving her from what she had become, that was when he lost the last thread of restraint. Roaring out a vow, Brahms lunged towards Hrist. His claws had been reaching for her, intent on ripping out her all too vulnerable throat.

"I will not allow you to harm her!" A man screamed. Brahms just barely managed to teleport out of the way, a far too large sword swinging through the air. Inwardly Brahms cursed, realizing he had been so focused on the two women he hadn't even noticed the third presence in the room. That had nearly cost him, Brahms having no doubts that the sword could have delivered a killing wound. He needed to get in control of himself, to reign in his mindless impulses so that he could fight better.

"Arngrim!" The Valkyrie was livid, naming her einherjar. "Stand down! This is my fight!"

Even as Brahms and this Arngrim circled each other, the man was refusing his Valkyrie. That surprised Brahms, the vampire Lord not thinking any of the einherjar had balls big enough to oppose a direct order from the Valkyries they served. This one was either very brave, or very foolish. Neither trait would allow him to live for much longer. 

"Are you that dedicated to your Valkyrie that you would die for her?" Brahms demanded, his curiosity roused.

"I would do so gladly." Arngrim answered, honestly lacing his words. His head lifted, his expression as proud as it was fierce. He was that determined to defend the Valkyrie, and Brahms wondered what could have inspired such strong devotion. But it was a curiosity that would have to go unsated, Brahms snarling at the next words this Arngrim shouted.

"Hrist! Finish what you came here to do!"

The Valkyrie didn't even pause to respond, surely lurching towards Silmeria. Brahms practically saw red, shouting out a vow. "It is not Silmeria who will die this day!" He moved, claws reaching for Arngrim. One hand was poised to tear out the muscular einherjar's throat, the other going for his exposed stomach. The fool wore the flimsiest of armors, only a partial chest guard covering over his heart.

But this fight wasn't over in an instant, the warrior swinging his large blade at Brahms. The vampire was forced to teleport out of the way, unable to stop his charge in time. In the seconds it took to appear behind the einherjar, Brahms was assessing the situation. Out the corner of his eye, much to his surprise, he saw Silmeria doing her best to flee from Hrist's killing blows. He didn't understand why his bride had a renewed sense of self survival, but knew it bought him the time needed to deal with Hrist's einherjar.

Arngrim was a big man, almost as tall and muscled as Brahms. He had to be strong to handle such a big blade, moving it about with effortless ease. But was it a strength that could equal the lord of all vampires? Brahms knew it was not, and that was before he had fed off of a Valkyrie. That battle maiden's life blood flowed within him, energizing Brahms to new capabilities. 

He reached out towards Arngim's back, his claws slashing in an upwards motion. Arngim screamed out, five slashes appearing on his unprotected skin. Brahms' claws even severed through the straps of his flimsy armor, the metal chest guard falling to the floor.

"Arngrim!" That was Hrist, the Valkyrie distracted by her einherjar's scream. That she cared at all was another surprise, Brahms knowing Hrist was the most ruthless and merciless of the three sisters. And yet concern had clearly been in her voice, though the Valkyrie did not pull back from her attempts to kill Silmeria.

"It's nothing..." Arngrim gritted out through teeth that were clenched against his screams. His blood had splattered on the floor, and more continued to fall. But he refused to go down, turning in time to get claws slashed over the front of his body. This time he managed to hold in his scream, Arngrim's pain emerging as a grunt. His fist seemed to clench on his sword's hilt, Arngrim following that motion with a slash.

Brahms leapt back out of the way, feeling the blade just narrowly miss splitting open his own chest. Arngrim followed, trying to thrust the sword through the vampire king. Brahms shifted to the side, hearing the clang as the sword struck the bedroom's wall. Even as Arngrim was turning to track Brahms' movements, the vampire was moving in for another strike. His claws reached for the warriors' face, intent on gouging out his eyes and tearing open his cheeks.

Without warning, Hrist's sword came slashing downwards, nearly severing Brahms' fingers. He swore, leaping back to give himself and the Valkyrie distance. She glared, her expression absolutely furious. But there was something odd about the way she stood in front of her einherjar, fully blocking Arngrim's body from Brahms attacks. It was clear she meant to defend the warrior, but why? Valkyries were supposed to be protected by their einherjar, not the other way around.

It confused Brahms enough to delay his next assault, the vampire tilting his head to the side. He could hear the sounds of Silmeria's breathing, the vampiress panting but otherwise fine. Hrist had abandoned her attempts to kill her own sister, all to rush to the aid of a man who should mean nothing to her. And yet it was clear by the anger that darkened Hrist's eyes, that she felt strongly for the man behind her.

Brahms wanted to know why. The predator inside him didn't care about this mystery, simply howling for the deaths of those who would threaten his bride. There was little chance of reasoning with it, the beast hungry for blood. Every spill of Brahms' own blood, increased that need, the vampire knowing he would have to feed if he wanted to quickly heal the wounds he had sustained. 

Hrist's Valkyrie blood would do nicely on that end. But Brahms knew he couldn't truly feed off of her. Not without earning Silmeria's eternal hatred. Even killing the battle maiden might be going too far, but his beast didn't care. It screamed inside him, and in the next instant Brahms was moving, lunging towards Hrist. She responded by swinging her sword, intent on slashing open whatever she could reach.

He teleported out of the way of her sword. But he didn't go far, appearing behind her. Close enough to touch, Brahms catching the scent of her. It nearly stopped him where he stood, his eyes widening in shock. Hrist smelled of several things, blood and leather, the polish used to shine her armor. But mingled with that scent was another, a more masculine scent he had smelled just moments earlier. It almost made him look towards Arngrim, and that would have cost him for the Valkyrie was swinging her sword at him yet again.

Teleporting out of the way, Brahms landed near Arngrim. He inhaled, and over the scent of blood and sweat he caught Hrist's scent. It almost made him laugh, Brahms giving Hrist a wicked grin. "Someone's been naughty."

Hrist didn't rise to the bait, though her eyes had flashed with alarm at registering how close the vampire was to her einherjar. It was a telling sign, Brahms continuing to smirk. He didn't lose that grin, even as Arngrim swung his sword. It was a weak swing, the einherjar losing too much blood to fight effectively. He would die if his wounds were allowed to go untreated. And yet he seemed uncaring, trying to advance on Brahms threateningly.

"You stay away from her!"

Brahms ignored the warning, teleporting behind a turning Hrist. He lashed out with his claws, tearing open the back of her hand. She shrieked, the sound loud and piercing, earning an agonized scream from Arngrim. Hrist also dropped her sword, Brahms crushing the blade underfoot. Even disarmed, it didn't take the fight out of the Valkyrie, the woman holding her injured hand close to her side.

Brahms' nostrils flared, scenting her sweet blood. His fangs lengthened in his mouth, the vampire practically salivating in anticipation. Brahms wondered if he made some sound, for Silmeria was suddenly shouting.

"Do not hurt my sister!" She had reminded them all of her presence, Hrist tensing as though she would run towards the blonde. But her dark eyes remained on Brahms, Hrist moving slow and wary. He mimicked the Valkyrie's pace, returning her stare. Tension coiled through her body, it was obvious to all who looked at her. Just as it was obvious when that tension was released, Hrist charging Brahms with a fierce yell.

She had no sword, no weapon but her own body. It should have been absurd, the thought of a woman challenging a vampire in this manner. But Hrist was no mortal woman, but a minor deity in her own right. She swung a hard left, smashing her fist into his face. Blood colored spit flew out of his mouth, Brahms caught off guard. His own eyes hardened, the vampire bringing up his hands to block the next of Hrist's punches.

It rapidly turned into a full out brawl, both of them throwing punches with one hand, and blocking attacks with the other. Hrist's fist would smash into Brahm's left hand, while his would smash into her right. She wouldn't always try to go for his face, aiming blows at his body. And when it became apparent that wouldn't work, her right leg lifted, foot catching him in his injured side.

The pain distracted him, Brahms growling. Hrist drove her fingers into the wound, twisting and curling them to wrench out more of his screams. His vision went hazy, the next thing Brahms knew, his hand was around Hrist's throat. And still she tortured his wound, even as he began lifting her up off the floor. Her feet dangled, her hands grabbing his arm, trying desperately to get free. Her short nails claws over his wrist bands, Hrist sneering as Arngrim screamed her name. 

"Hrist!"

Arngirm wasn't the only worried. Silmeria had appeared next to Brahms, grabbing at his arm. She was pulling at it, trying to get him to let go of her sister. Silmeria looked close to tears, her voice frantic as she spoke. 

"Don't! Don't kill her!"

Somehow he managed not to crush Hrist's throat. But he didn't let go, turning only his head to look at Silmeria. "She's come here to kill you." 

"Yes, I know! But she hasn't succeeded!" Silmeria pointed out.

"She'll keep trying." Brahms said. "Hrist won't stop until one of you is dead."

"I realize that....but I..I still can't let you kill her!" Silmeria exclaimed, her claws digging into his skin. "Please...." Brahms' expression hardened even further, he was looking at Hrist who was turning an interesting shade of blue. "Please!" Silmeria said louder. Brahms lashed out, catching that fool Arngrim with a back swing that knocked him into the nearest wall. There was a satisfying thud as his back hit against the wall, his sword falling to the floor. 

"Please..." repeated Silmeria, voice urgent. "If...if you have any real feelings for me...if you truly care for me at all, you'll let her go!"

Brahms growled in response, more than a little incensed that she had played that feelings card. He continued to stare at Hrist, who was struggling to breathe. He thought about how easy it would be to snuff out her life, how easy it would be to crush her throat. Almost as easy as it would be to ruin any chance he might have with Silmeria. His growl grew louder, more enraged but he forced his fingers to relax. 

With a loud, wheezing gasp Hrist fell to the floor. She lay there in a crumpled heap, panting. Brahms didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, the vampire glaring down at her. Silmeria was still touching him, but her claws were no longer tearing into his arm. 

"Thank you!" She whispered with complete gratitude.

"It is not over yet." Brahms stated, using the toe of his boot to nudge Hrist's leg. She seemed to twitch, looking up at him. Her face was twisted in hatred, her eyes flashing with anger. Brahms knew his own eyes showed similar, though he couldn't manage the depth of hate that Hrist showed. Not so long as his bride still lived.

Hrist continued to glare, face full of open loathing. A sound was heard, something scraping across the floor. Arngrim had kicked a shard of Hrist's broken blade towards them, Hrist acting in an instant. She grabbed the shard, the jagged edges cutting open the palm of her hand. Brahms barely had time to react, she was already scrambling to her feet, lunging towards Silmeria. 

Her aim was true, the shard's rough edge would easily slice open the girl's flesh. Brahms bellowed, enraged. One hand clamped down on her wrist, using such force the bone broke in an instant. Hrist let out a scream, then another as Brahms pounded his fist into her stomach. The armor there had already been shattered open, leaving Brahms to wonder just who had been responsible for that vulnerability. 

With no protection for her stomach, Hrist's breath was forcefully expelled. Along with a mouthful of blood, the Valkyrie gagging as she dropped to her knees. Silmeria had screamed, the girl once again pulling at Brahm's arms, trying to prevent him from doing any further harm to her sister. It took every ounce of control for Brahms to not kick Hrist in the face.

"This is your last chance." Brahms snapped, tone harsh. "If you make one more move against my bride, sister or no, I will end your life!"

"Spare me your false mercies!" Hrist managed to snarl in between pained whimpers.

"At least I HAVE mercy!" Brahms retorted. "I know of you, of your ruthless reputation. A reputation you have lived up to, in trying to kill your own sister!" He growled in warning when Hrist attempted to offer a retort. "Don't! Don't hide behind your King's lies. We are not monsters. We have a right to live as much as you Gods do! As much as anyone does! And no one will take it from us!"

"You are a damned existence!" Hrist screamed. "A soulless blithe that needs to be eradicated. You kill and you corrupt, and poison touch has already ruined my sisters. Both of them!"

He didn't understand what she meant, Brahms only knowing what he had done to Silmeria. "I have freed Silmeria from Odin's lies. From a joyless life of a servitude that was no better than slavery! With me, Silmeria will truly know what it means to be alive!"

"You are nothing more than soulless corpses!" snarled Hrist. "No better than the zombies or ghouls!"

"How little you know!" Brahms retorted. "You are as big a fool as any other Valkyrie that follows Odin!"

"Do not insult my King!" Hrist shouted, her good hand clenching into a fist. 

"I speak no insults, only the truth." Brahms let out a breath, feeling tired and exasperated. "It's a truth none of you want to hear! A truth Odin would kill to keep it from being revealed! But go on. Keep fighting his battles, never questioning his orders. It might even let you live a little longer. But one thing that won't is if I find you attempting to kill my bride again."

He glanced at Silmeria now, his expression still so grim. "You have to understand. If she keeps coming for you, there will be no other choice. She will have to die." Silmeria actually paled at that, looking like she wanted to argue. Brahms sensed Hrist's movement, and reacted on instinct, foot lashing out to catch the Valkyrie in the face. She didn't even cry out, just crumpled unconscious at his feet.

"Hrist!" Silmeria cried out, but Brahms stopped her from dropping down besides her.

"No, Silmeria. She bleeds too much. You will be tempted to feed, not caring that she is your own sister. It's best to stay away." Horror dawned in her eyes, Silmeria backing up as far as the bedroom would allow her. Again that weary sigh, Brahms turning to look at Arngrim. He was bleeding badly, but was still conscious. "You have a healing potion don't you?" Arngrim's eyes lit up with surprise, but he nodded. "Use it."

"What.....why?" Arngrim asked, tone wary as he fumbled in his pocket for a vial. 

"I have no further quarrel with you, provided you take your woman and leave." Brahms told him. Arngrim's brows rose at that, adding to his surprised look. "Take her back the way you came. Get off the island. I don't care how. Just make sure she never tries to return here...for both your sakes."

Arngrim waited until he had drank down the healing potion before answering. "You're really going to let us go?" Brahms just nodded, which earned a frown from the warrior. "She's not going to like this..."

"She doesn't have a choice." Brahms retorted. "You don't have much of one either." Arngrim continued to frown, Brahms almost rolling his eyes in response. "It's better than dying isn't it?"

Arngrim hesitated, staring at Hrist's prone from. "That's for damn sure." He agreed at last. He slowly got up, surprise blooming yet again when Brahms picked up and handed the warrior his sword. 

"You'll need this to deal with what's out there." Brahms said. "I can call back my vampires, but the island has other dangers...." Arngrim didn't thank him, just wordlessly taking the sword from him. Brahms kept a careful watch on the warrior, watching as the einherjar walked over to pick Hrist up off the floor. He'd throw the black haired Valkyrie over one shoulder, but not before he poured some healing potion down her throat.

"You know, Odin's not going to stop." Arngrim said thoughtfully. "Not after the insult you've given him in taking one of his Valkyries."

"I'd worry more about what Odin will do to you and YOUR Valkyrie." Brahms paused, locking knowing eyes with Arngrim. "He's not going to like the defeat I handed his armies this day. He'll need someone to blame, to punish." He hesitated long enough for Arngrim to consider the implications of just who that punishment would fall on. "If you want to keep Hrist as your lover..." He heard Silmeria's startled gasp at that. "It would be wiser to not return to Asgard."

"We'd be fugitives if we turned out back on the realm."

"Odin need not know you survived today's slaughter." Reasoned Brahms. "You've have a chance at a clean slate, a way to vanish from his attention."

"She would never go for it." Arngrim said, after a thoughtful pause. Brahms well knew the pitfalls of dealing with a reluctant woman, giving Arngrim a sympathetic look. That was their final exchange, Arngrim turning his back on Brahms to walk out of the room. For one brief moment he listened to the sounds of the warrior's footsteps walking away, and then he turned.

Silmeria was still on the other side of the bedroom, currently leaning against the wall. She seemed dazed, almost confused. Brahms wondered if shock was setting in, or if she was just that surprised by the revelation that Hrist and her einherjar Arngrim had been lovers. He felt a similar surprise, though he was more amused than confused. Of all the Valkyries, he had never expected one as strict, one as rigid in obeying Odin's rules, to broach forbidden ground. But his nose could not be deceived, the two scents mingled in such a way that proved Hrist and Angrim had been intimate and recently.

He both envied and felt sympathy for the heavy blade warrior. Especially knowing what little he knew about Hrist's personality. But at least Arngrim had his woman, something Brahms could not claim completely. And yet, even as he knew Silmeria would not welcome the touch, Brahms went to her. Actually pulled her into his arms. She didn't struggle, the dazed look still in her eyes.

Fiercely possessive, and needing to reassure himself that Silmeria was indeed here. Alive and relatively well. Brahms hugged her, holding her long and tight. He didn't care that he was bleeding, that he needed to feed. He just wanted to hold Silmeria for as long as she would let him, inhaling the scent of her hair. The moment would not last long enough for his liking, Silmeria stirring. Her hands touched his damp chest, and then she gasped, looking down at the blood. He saw how tempted she was to feed, and Brahms might have tried to push her into drinking if he hadn't been so weakened from his injuries.

Silmeria continued to stare at her hands, barely seeming to notice when Brahms stepped back. But his hands kept on touching her, holding her by the arms as he studied her. He saw the way the front of her top had been slashed open, saw the cut on her neck. Even the bleeding cuts on her arms. He felt his anger renewed, even though they were relatively minor wounds.

"You're hurt." He managed in a low tone. Silmeria just made a questioning sound, still staring at the blood on her hands. Brahms was now faced with temptation of his own, one he found he couldn't successfully resist. Without speaking, without gaining her permission, he lifted one of her arms. She didn't look, not until he snaked out his tongue, dragging it slowly across the worst of her injuries.

Silmeria immediately gasped, her blue eyes widening as she looked at him. He didn't give her any expression, just continued to lick, tasting her blood. Pleasure was within him at her taste, finding that while she was no longer as sweetly addicting as Silmeria had been as a vampire, she still tasted pretty damn good. He wanted to growl, to revel in that stolen taste, wanting to roll Silmeria to the ground. Instead he forced himself to behave, only lapping up the blood, and letting his saliva work to seal over her wound.

"Brahms!" Silmeria had found her voice, staring at him shocked. He gave her unrepentant eyes, and moved to the next wound. She touched his face, getting it's bloody imprint on his cheek. "Stop that!"

"This will help you heal quicker." Brahms told her in between licks. "Of course, it can't replace the healing feeding would give you." Her lips pursed together, Silmeria looking far too pale for Brahms liking. In fact she seemed to start swaying in place, as though she might faint. Ever solicitous towards his bride, Brahms helped guide her over to the bed. She immediately sat down, Brahms moving to kneel in front of her. A protesting sound was made, but it didn't stop Brahms from taking her left arm. He began licking the sword cuts there, but never broke eye contact with his bride. Silmeria actually shuddered in response, though he didn't think it was born of disgust. She was being affected by what he was doing, might even envy him for the blood he was tasting.

"T...thank you." Silmeria finally broke the silence after what seemed like hours. He arched a brow in question, just continue to rove his tongue over a cut near her wrist. "For...for sparing my sister."

"Ah." He gave her a flat unemotional tone, savoring her blood on his tongue. "I wanted to kill her." Part of him still wanted Hrist's death. "Especially when I saw what Hrist was trying to do to you."

"But you didn't...and I thank you for that." 

He nodded, the last of her wounds sealed over. But he didn't let go of her arm, Brahms holding it as he stared up as Silmeria. There was much Brahms could say, much he was curious about. He had things to do, but there was one thing that could not wait. "Why didn't you lay down for Hrist's sword?"

Silmeria was too pale from blood loss to blush properly. But it was clear she turned embarrassed. She tried to pull her arm from his grip, but Brahms tightened his fingers just short of hurting her. "I realized something in the moments Hrist intended to be my last."

"Oh?"

Silmeria looked like she wanted to turn away. But his gaze held her riveted, the girl flustered as she admitted to the following. "I realized I didn't want to die. That even if I must be a vampire, I wanted a chance to live....to experience life the way i hadn't as a Valkyrie." Pleasure filled him to hear those words, but he held back his smile. It was good thing, for Silmeria was continuing in a hasty manner. "It doesn't mean I accept everything about being a vampire. Or about being with you! But I...I WANT my chance at life." Her look turned determined. "And I am going to take it."

"You have made an important decision." Brahms said in approval. "You've taken the first step towards living." He had gained hope, the hope that Silmeria might accept everything he had given her. Of the life, and of himself.

Silmeria was nodding her head in agreement. Brahms was so tempted to lick her arm again. But he restrained that impulse, slowly letting go of her but in such a way his retreating fingers caressed over her flesh. His eyes glanced at her torn top, but he could see no blood. The sword had not come close to tearing open the flesh there. Silmeria noticed where he was looking, and grew even more embarrassed. She'd pull her top close with her hands, though nothing inappropriate had been showing.

Seconds later Vandimeer appeared in the room. "My King!" He was still carrying a sword, the victor of his duel with a Valkyrie. Brahms reluctantly turned from Silmeria to face his loyal vampire. The man's eyes were wide, he looked around the room. 

"Ah Vandimeer, you are just in time." Brahms said. "How goes the battle?"

"The battle goes well on our side." Vandimeer told them. "The Valkyrie have suffered many losses thanks to your earlier efforts."

"And yet they still fight?" inquired Brahms, and Vandimeer gave an apologetic look. "They leave us no choice..." He rose off his knees, adjusting his clothing. "Stay here with Silmeria." Brahms ordered Vandimeer. Suddenly he felt a hand tugging on the back of his vest. He turned to look at her, Silmeria having also stood.

"Are you going outside?" He nodded yes to her question. "Then I'm going with you."

"You?" Even Vandimeer was startled. 

Silmeria nodded, a determined look on her face. "The fighting has to end..."

"Your appearance there won't stop it." Vandimeer pointed out. "If anything, it will make the Valkyrie all the more determined to kill you!"

"He's right." Brahms said. "The Valkyrie see you as an enemy to be destroyed. If your own sister could not be made to spare you, what makes you think the other will show mercy?" Silmeria turned uncertain, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Brahms touched her face, his look serious. "What can you hope to do on the battle field? The elders are wary of your power...a power you would not willingly turn on the Valkyrie. You'd be indecisive at best, and only put yourself at risk..."

Silmeria turned frustrated at that, blue eyes almost glaring at him. "You know I speak the truth."

"But you'll kill them all if I don't go out there!"

"We will kill them all regardless of you." Vandimeer statement earned him Silmeria's glare.

"A message has to be sent to Odin. He has to know we will not tolerate any more invasions, or the slaughter of our people." Brahms told her.

"Do they all have to die?" Silmeria demanded. "Can't you...can't you give them a chance? Like you gave Hrist?" Brahms hesitated just enough for Silmeria to turn pleading. "Please!" She begged. "Give them the chance to retreat!"

"Do you honestly think they will?" Brahms demanded, and saw by the look on her face she did not. "Silmeria..." Brahms sighed, and drew her near enough so he could kiss her forehead. "The Valkyrie are determined to do Odin's will or die this day...."

"Give them a chance...please!"

He sighed again, and nodded. "Fine...they will get their reprieve. They have until tomorrow night to leave this island. Any that remain behind will die otherwise. It's the best I can offer."

"It's more than enough." Silmeria whispered. But Brahms could see she didn't believe in the chance the Valkyries would give up and go home. He caressed his fingers on her cheek, then forced himself away from her. 

"Remain with her." Brahms said.

"Yes, my lord." Vandimeer did a slight bow. Brahms knew the vampire would guard Silmeria with his life if it came to it. But Brahms was sure there was no other enemies in the castle. That included the Valkyrie and their einherjar on the battlefield, as well as any vampires that might be a threat to Brahms' rule. Brahms also knew his decision to show mercy to the invaders would not be an entirely popular decision. And yet he hadn't the heart to refuse Silmeria. 

His injuries were such that he still couldn't teleport long distances. It didn't matter, Brahms could run as fast as he needed. He'd use that time to think, to worry about the complications of the night. But he also felt hope, a spring almost in his step as he recalled Silmeria telling him she had decided to live. Brahms would even spare a thought to her sister, planning to make a special allowance for Hrist and Arngrim. Regardless of what happened with the rest of the hunting party, those two would survive. Whether they returned to Asgard, or decided to live on anonymously in another realm, the choice was now up to them. Brahms just hoped they were capable of making the smart decision for it would be one less problem for the vampires to worry about.

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To Be Continued....


	27. Twenty Seven

Lenneth hadn't been able to get away fast enough from Lezard, though all outward signs of that need had not been apparent. Lenneth was pleased, maybe even proud that she had managed to retain some dignity, walking calmly out the room. That calm would last long enough for her to get several corridors away, before a great shaking had overcome her. The trembles had left her staggered, Lenneth slipping into the nearest room. It was sheer luck that it had been empty, the woman able to lean against the wall until she could overcome her reactions.

Lenneth didn't know why she was so surprised. She should have known it would be difficult to see Lezard, to talk with him so soon after the events of the night before. It had been difficult enough just speaking to him after the near kiss he had given her in the workshop. But now to have been held by him, kissed a dozen times over, her body embraced by his? It was sheer torture, a mortifying nightmare she couldn't help replaying over and over in her mind.

It was all because of the love enchantment of Odin's. Lenneth was sure of it. She would never be so weak as to succumb to a man otherwise. And yet that was exactly what she was doing, becoming as docile as Lezard had noted Lenneth had been. It burned that she had been so conflicted by his attentions that all Lenneth could do was lay there and endure. Almost as much as it hurt that she was so conflicted and caught off guard that she babbled incessantly about the need to be loved, to mean something more to him. Her vulnerabilities were showing, from her actions to the way she spoke to him, Lenneth revealing how his touches, his kisses and attention had left her in a frozen state of inaction. 

It was embarrassing. Painful. Something in her chest hurt, a tight, suffocating feeling filling her. She almost dropped the sword, lifting her other hand to grab at her bodice. But that didn't stop the pain, Lenneth suffering in the moment. Trembling as flashes of memory came to her. Both of the previous night in her bedroom, and of the conversation she had taken part of just minutes ago. Neither one was something she could defend against, the sword useless against this powerful but intangible opponent. 

Lenneth remembered being swept away in the midst of Lezard's kisses. How even her legs had seemed to give out in the advent of his lip's sweet pressure on her own. If Lezard hadn't taken her into his arms, Lenneth would have surely fallen, so unsteady had her legs become.

He had carried her to the bed, lowering her onto it's softness and quickly pinning her in place with his own body. And barely did he stop from kissing her, not even to allow them both a chance to catch their breaths, let alone their senses. The shortness of breath only intensified the sensations, Lenneth dizzy, her head spinning in confused circles. The urge to push him away had quickly been superseded by the need to accept him. Lenneth had warred within herself, torn over what to do, and even then her confusion only grew worse each second the kisses lasted.

By the time Lezard had finally deigned to pull back, Lenneth was gasping for breath. Her chest had felt tight, her body trapped in the confines of the nightgown. It's silk material had felt too restrictive, and though it had been a light fabric, she had suddenly felt overheated. That hot feeling only increased with Lezard staring at her, his eyes drinking in her appearance.

She had been reeling from the kisses, from the assault of the emotions he stirred up within her. New sensations had filled her, things Lenneth had no previous experience with. Certainly the kiss Lezard had used to awaken her could not compare to the kisses he gave her now. There had been a similarity to the almost kiss they had shared in the workshop, but it's intensity had been amplified. Lenneth had been frightened by the near kiss, that brief touch of Lezard's lips. Now she was downright traumatized, fearing each caress of his lips further cemented her downfall.

Even worse, Lenneth had been reaching a point where she had no longer CARED. And that had frightened her all the more. It had renewed her internal struggles, Lenneth trying to take a stern tone in response to the sickening sweetness of her own desires. Lenneth had repeatedly told herself the desire she felt wasn't hers. It was Odin's spell. And yet that wasn't enough to get her to stop yearning, Lenneth laying still. As much a victim to the potion as she had been to Lezard.

There was only one small victory, one relief Lenneth could take from it all. As much as the potion made her want to be loved and desired by him, it hadn't forced her to do anything supremely foolish as to touch him back. That would have been the ultimate in disasters! Instead Lenneth had just laid there, her arms limp at her sides as she stared up at Lezard. She hadn't even been able to close her eyes, not even to block out the heated looks he gave her, or the approach of his next kiss.

Those looks of his was almost as dangerous as his kisses. Lenneth remembered how he looked at her. As if she was something to be savored, his gaze near worshipful. Was it because she had once been a Goddess that Lezard looked so reverent as he handled her hair? Or was Lenneth fooling herself into thinking she had meant something more to him? That she and that moment had been anything more than scratching the itch of his desire.

Lenneth could have moaned in despair just then. But she wouldn't make such an undignified sound, though she remained leaning against the wall for it's support. Lenneth also knew she had been wrong with what she had told Lezard just minutes ago. She wouldn't be strong enough to overcome the potion, not when combined with Lezard's touches and kisses. Lenneth could be as wary as she liked, but ultimately Lezard would be her downfall. Even worse, that downfall would happen soon. They were set to wed the next day! Lenneth knew what expectations there were of a bride to her husband. And she very much doubted there would be a reprieve from it, Lezard going farther than kissing and a few touches.

She would not be able to endure. Lenneth was positive of that. Her will was strong, but last night had proved it was not strong enough. Odin's enchantment would prevail, she WOULD love Lezard if the marriage was consummated. That realization made her feel ill, her shaking increasing. Lenneth truly did not know what to do, she was in exile from Asgard. But she didn't, couldn't accept her punishment. Lenneth was clinging to the hope she could discover something that would let her gain back Odin's favor. Something that would reveal Hel's true intentions in forming this alliance.

So far she hadn't been successful. But then Lenneth had been very much distracted by the feelings she was enduring. These first time experiences were strange, a distraction she couldn't afford. And yet Lenneth knew she had to get close to Lezard, since he was the most likely to have the information she needed. But right now she couldn't bear to be around him, not when the memories of last night were so strong an embarrassment.

Time was running out. Lenneth knew that. And not just for her. Asgard itself was most likely in danger, Hel and her armies sure to be it's downfall. Odin was too trusting a fool if he believed otherwise. Lenneth still could not understand what Hel could have offered Odin to get the God to even consider an alliance. It would not be the first time she worried about the state of things in regard to the war with Brahms and his undead legions.

It was extremely frustrating to be amidst Asgard's enemies, and not have any real proof of wrong doing. But Lenneth welcome the frustration, for it allowed a distraction from her troubles with love and desire. Her shaking would settle down, Lenneth able to stand straight once more. The pain in her chest wouldn't lessen, but Lenneth was able to ignore it for now. 

Recovered, Lenneth would leave the room. No one would be the wiser for her moment of collapse, Lenneth walking through the castle corridors as though nothing had happened. She would return the sword to the room that worked as the caste guard's station. The man who had lent it to her was not present, but those that were had evinced an interest in sparring with Lenneth at a later date and time. She had made no promises, just forcing a faint smile on her face as she thanked them for the morning's duel.

The fight had been just what she needed, Lenneth working out a lot of hidden aggression by dueling with the guardsmen. But any good the morning's fight had done her, was quickly undone. And all because of the conversation she had with Lezard. Just recalling his attempts at apologies, and his near sheepish admittance that he didn't remember much if anything of what had happened, it was enough to upset Lenneth. 

It hurt. Truly and honestly it did. She understood he had been drunk, but a part of Lenneth wondered if she was that forgettable to him. Lezard didn't remember, while she couldn't forget, the woman remembering how she had squirmed beneath his hands' caress. She had undulated, moving in a way Lenneth had never, ever done before. Only to have Lezard pass out just seconds after.

The passing out had saved her, and for the longest time she had just laid there with his heavy weight on top of her. Eventually, when it got to be too much of a burden, Lenneth had struggled out from beneath him. She ended up spending the night sleeping in a chair, uncomfortable but nowhere near as much had she remained in bed with Lezard.

The memories continued to repeat, Lenneth realizing there was no way she wanted to return to her room. Not with it tainted, the memories of last night a strong reminder of what had almost happened. If she could, Lenneth would never return to that room. Anymore than she would allow herself to be alone with Lezard. But Lenneth knew she couldn't stay away. Their impending marriage would force them together, as would her search for proof.

Lenneth held in a sigh, understanding everything she did today was just a delay to returning to that bedroom. But she couldn't force herself to return just yet, even though she had little else to occupy her time. She had no set responsibilities, existing as nothing more than Lezard's fiancee. Maybe that would change after they were married, a purpose being found for Lenneth. But for now she was aimless, drifting through the castle not quite in a daze. 

In her current state, Lenneth would have been content to forget all about the need to visit the castle seamstress. However the woman herself, was not so easily dismissed. She'd actually come looking for Lenneth, the woman latching onto the former Goddess' arm. Lenneth couldn't even think of a viable protest, still too taken with her own private distress where Lezard and her emotions were concerned. 

Lenneth would find herself drag into one of the rooms allocated to the seamstress and her servants. Those women, a mix of girls barely in the flush of adult hood, to even a few elderly ladies, all stopped what they were doing to stare. The seamstress, a woman in her late forties, whose brown hair was already streaking with gray, only allowed them a brief respite from their work. And then she was clapping her hands together.

"All right girls!" She snapped in a brusque tone. "We have much to do, those clothes won't sew themselves." The group of women did not so much as grumble, turning back to the fabric on their laps. Lenneth looked around, noticing that much of the space was taken up with chairs for the women to sit down as they worked. An adjacent room would be filled with fabric bolts, along with half finished outfits sitting on mannequins. It was to this room Lenneth was directed towards, the seamstress bidding Lenneth to go and change into the dress she would wear for her wedding.

The door would close behind the woman, giving Lenneth the privacy to change clothes. Lenneth could not keep from sighing, but ultimately she removed her purple and silver gown to slide on the wedding dress. It was made a soft silk, the fabric holding a slight chill to it as it clung to her body. Lenneth would smooth her hands down the dress, thinking there was not much the seamstress would have to do to adjust it's fit on her. And then she turned and caught sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror.

She couldn't keep from staring, Lenneth taken aback by how lovely she looked in this gown. The gown chosen for the ceremony was a dress of white and silver brocade. It had a square neck that was cut extremely low on her cleavage. It was almost lower than was proper, the swell of her breasts being revealed. The sleeves were long and full, gathering at her wrists. The long slash of it was held by four silver bows who allowed small openings to reveal hints of her arms. While the material clung to her breasts, the rest was without shape, the skirts descending downwards from a silver ribbon that tied just under her breasts.

The skirts descended all the way to the floor, hiding her feet from sight. Lenneth had not been given any slippers to wear, nor had they bothered to adorn her hair. But even without the adornments and jewels, she made a stunning picture. Lenneth could only stand there stunned, wondering at who this vision was. And all because she looked as far removed from a Valkyrie as she possibly could. She looked like a woman, but one meant to be admired for her beauty. One meant to inspire desire in the hearts of men. Even one meant to stir jealousy in women.

Lenneth wasn't sure she liked this change. And all because Lenneth didn't want to be any of those things. Nor did she like what the dress symbolized, that of a bride about to be married. She revolted against it, against the dress and against the impending ceremony. If Lenneth had retained the sword, she would have surely taken the blade to the dress, savagely sliced it apart even as she knew it's destruction was delaying NOTHING.

Lenneth grumbled softly under her breath, turning away from the mirror. There was no point in delaying it, the woman walking over to the door. The seamstress was waiting to the side of it, her expression anxious as she took a look at Lenneth. Her eyes turned critical, the woman looking over the Valkyrie for any signs of imperfection. The other servants had once again stopped what they were doing, staring at Lenneth.

The Valkyrie would find herself standing on a pedestal, the seamstress and one of the older women walking around her in circles. Occasionally hands would reach out to touch a part of her dress, checking to see if it could not be adjusted to fit more tightly against Lenneth's chest, or checking on an imperfect seam. Lenneth endured this, seemingly ignored by the seamstress now that she was working.

The other women continued to sew, every once and a while glancing up as the seamstress made some loud comment. Lenneth would fix her gaze on the open window, staring longingly at the outside forest. But she didn't miss when the door opened to the room, a single pair of footsteps announcing the arrival of a new comer. At the woman's voice, Lenneth turned, ignoring the seamstress' protests.

"Well!" Mystina was gazing at Lenneth, an admiring look in her eyes. "Don't you look pretty." She smiled, though it looked a little to forced to be real. "You will make a lovely bride."

Lenneth was hardly pleased at that, but she forced a response out. "Thank you."

"Mismerlla, you've simply outdone yourself." Mystina said, glancing at the seamstress. 

The woman face lit up, the seamstress beaming with pride. "Thank you my lady. This dress has been my masterpiece. It has taken nearly three weeks to get it complete."

"Three weeks?" Lenneth couldn't hide her surprise. "You've known about my coming for that long?"

"Well, yes..." Mismerlla admitted. "We've known about A Valkyrie coming to wed our Lord for quite some time now."

Lenneth didn't know what kind of expression she wore, but it earned Mystina's laughter. Her green eyes twinkled, the sorceress amused as she spoke to Lenneth. "It takes TIME to plan a wedding. Even one as rushed as this."

"Of of course....I did not think..." Lenneth said.

"I'm glad we went with the silver instead of the gold." Mismerlla touched one of the ribbons on Lenneth's sleeves. "This color brings out the platinum of your hair, makes it more striking than the gold would have. Lord Lezard had good foresight to insist on it."

Lenneth did not think anything strange of that. She certainly didn't take it to mean Lezard knew he would have a Valkyrie bride with her coloring coming to him. 

"And what of the groom?" Mystina asked. "What will our Lord be wearing?"

"Ah....the suit is over this way." Mismerlla gestured for Lenneth and Mystina to follow her over to the next room. There was a mannequin near the back, dressed in a light gray suit. The suit had a dark navy accent that was almost black, forming elaborate curlicues on the sleeves end, and the jacket's bottom. It was clearly made of an expensive fabric, but to Lenneth it looked like any other suit she had seen on the men in Flenceburg except it's pattern was a little more ornate. A shirt as dark as the accents would go beneath the jacket, it's cravat a frilly mess held back by a gold clip that had an amethyst in it's center. The sleeves were a fine lace, that would protrude beneath the jacket and cover the back of Lezard's hands. 

"Very nice." Mystina said approvingly. "Lezard might even look respectable in this." Mismerlla actually gasped in response, but the sorceress merely winked at Lenneth. The Valkyrie found her lips twitching, she was nearly tempted to smile if only in response to the seamstress' scandalized reaction. But she managed her response, Lenneth trying for a curious angle. 

"Are the clothing your servants are working on all for the wedding tomorrow?"

"Heavens no!" Mismerlla had recovered enough to let out a nervous laugh. "No, most of the clothing for that blessed occasion have been finished days ago. No, what my girls work on is the wardrobe your betrothed has ordered for you."

Lenneth paused, realizing then that the clothing the women had handled had been predominately dresses. She felt disappointed, positive the gowns would not be ideal for fighting in. But then, she wasn't expected to fight anymore. Lenneth was supposed to become a bride, a good wife to the man Odin had given her to. Any smile she had wanted to do, had died down with that thought, Lenneth fighting not to sigh. 

And yet Mystina noticed, flashing Lenneth a look that might almost be pity. It only upset the Valkyrie further, Lenneth not wanting the sorceress or anyone else to pity her. "Come Mismerlla. Let us let Lenneth change." Mystina was already guiding the seamstress out of the room. Lenneth was glad for the privacy, careful even in her hurried actions as she stripped out of the wedding gown. By the time she got her purple and silver dress back on, she was back to being composed, no sign of her true feelings playing out on her face.

Only to have them stirred up again by Mystina's next comment, the blonde woman looking at Lenneth with a mischievous light in her green eyes, "I was away from the castle, but already everyone is talking about it."

"It?" Lenneth asked blankly.

"Yes, it!" Mystina laughed. "I am quite saddened to have missed out on such a show. And with you as the star!"

Giggles started from one corner of the room, Mismerlla hissing out the servant to be quiet. Lenneth just stood there and stared at Mystina, thinking the worse of her words. Her first thought was that Mystina knew, that EVERYONE present, maybe everyone in the castle knew about last night. And that left her mortified, Lenneth sure she was paling in response. 

As mortified as she was, Lenneth was also angry. And she blamed it all on Lezard, thinking betrothed or not, he had no right to come call on her so late at night. Anyone could have seen him. Could have and apparently had, the whole castle a buzz with the news that their Lord had drunkenly made a move on Lenneth. They probably knew he had spent the night in her room, and would never believe nothing had happened aside from some kisses and touching.

Lenneth fought not to curl her hands into fists, fought not to scream. Somehow her voice came out normal, her expression calm even as her skin was drained of all it's color. "Oh?" Was all she said. It was enough, Mystina laughing some more.

"Yes! The way you took on those guardsmen, fancy dress and all? It's really something to be admired."

Lenneth did not relax immediately, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. But Lenneth was relived to learn that was what Mystina had been referring to when she spoke on a show.

"I really wish I could have seen it!" continued the sorceress.

"You just might get your chance for a repeat performance." Lenneth managed to say. "Several of the guards have been asking if I will spar with them again."

"Oh you must!" Mystina exclaimed. "It's the most action the guards have had in years. I know they can't possibly be a real challenge to one of your skill, but at least they offer you some exercise."

That they did, though Lenneth did not bother to inform her that the real challenge had been to fight the guards without killing or at least, severely injuring them.

"I don't think our Lord liked seeing his lady fight so." The seamstress murmured. Mystina snorted.

"Our Lord should ease up. Lest he find his bride chaffing under his rules!"

"He's not been that strict with me...." Lenneth said, a tad defensively. "And anything he does do, is out of worry for me."

"Just wait until your married." Mystina muttered. "That's when men really become controlling."

"Oh? Do you speak from experience?" Lenneth asked, curious. 

"Well....no..." Mystina's look was sheepish, her tone defensive. "I've never been married. Never have I wanted to be tied down in such a manner! But I've seen the pattern repeated a hundred times with others." 

"If that is true, that is depressing." Lenneth said. She looked at the seamstress, giving Mismerlla a bow. "I thank you for all you've done. You and your associates hard work. It is appreciated."

Mismerlla flushed in response to the gratitude Lenneth gave her. "Thank you, my lady!"

Lenneth nodded to her and Mystina, and moved to leave the room. Lenneth was surprised when she heard footsteps follow behind her, Mystina rushing after her. 

"Lenneth, a moment if you please!"

Lenneth wanted to keep walking, but she paused just outside the seamstress' room. "Yes?"

"I..." Mystina seemed to be hesitating, as though fumbling over what words she wanted to say. "I just...oh Hel." Lenneth tried not to flinch at the cruel Goddess' name being uttered so venomously. "I'm no good at this, so I'll just flat out say it. I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I was wrong to speak to you like that."

"Yes, you were." Lenneth agreed, studying Mystina's expression. "But why apologize? Pardon me, but you don't seem the type..."

Mystina grimaced. "I can admit when I am in the wrong. And I was, behaving reprehensibly to you. My words were rude, inflammatory...and for that I am sorry." Lenneth did not for one-second believe Mystina's apology, wary of the sorceress and her true motives.

"You should not involve me in your quarrel with Lezard."

"You're right about that." Mystina sighed. "I was being jealous, envious of his power and position. It made me lash out, and you were a convenient target. I won't do it again. Will you forgive me?"

Lenneth did not truly believe Mystina meant anything she said. But the former Goddess also thought it might be wise to make an ally of the sorceress. To use Mystina in her quest for ferreting out information. The sorceress might not be as high up in the hierarchy as far as Hel was concerned, but it didn't mean Mystina might not know anything. Certainly faking a friendship with this woman might bear fruit, one that might lead Lenneth to learning what she needed to find out.

"Yes, of course." Lenneth forced a smile, allowing Mystina to touch hands with her. The sorceress smiled as well, putting on a show of being relieved.

"Thank you for that." Mystina said. "Are you busy right now?"

"I find I don't have much to do, now that my dress fitting is over with." Lenneth told her. Mystina's smile became more dazzling, the woman moving to loop arms with Lenneth.

"Excellent. I have some free time as well. We can use this to go over the things Lezard is probably neglecting." 

"Things?" questioned Lenneth, arching an eyebrow.

"About the wedding for one thing." Mystina explained. "I bet you've never really been to one before. And even if you have, I doubt it was one that would be done in Hel's name."

Lenneth tried not to show her displeasure at the thought of having to take vows under the blessing of the dark Goddess. "You're right about that." She reluctantly admitted. Mystina grinned, and began dragging Lenneth off, her voice chattering endlessly about aspects of the ceremony. Lenneth listened to it all, biding her time for the chance to somehow change the topic and pry information from Mystina. If Lenneth could discover something of use, it would not have been a total waste of her afternoon.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	28. Twenty Eight

A bath and some clean clothes had done little to improve his mood, Lezard finding he still felt like crap even hours later. His head still throbbed, the headache slow to go away. He was still too sensitive to sound and light, Lezard almost hissing when Randolf gave him a greeting shout. The blonde man's voice had seemed to boom, making the brown hair mage jump in reaction to that unexpected sound.

Randolf merely grinned in response, falling into step with Lezard as he headed to the castle's library. The blonde man was in good spirits, looking robust and healthy. He certainly didn't seem to be suffering any signs of a hangover, much to Lezard's disappointment and envy. It must have shown on his face, for Randolf was chuckling, looping an overly familiar arm across Lezard's shoulders.

"I say! What you need is a bit of the hair of the dog that bit you."

"No." Lezard said quickly. "No more drinking! I've had enough of your special brew to last me a lifetime!" He shrugged off Randolf's arm, then scowled at him. "I don't understand how you can drink so much of that stuff and not be affected by it for days after."

"Just lucky I guess." Randolf had pulled out a flash. From the smell of it's contents, it had to be the same drink he had given Lezard last night. The mage could only make a face, and mutter something about how Randolf must have built up a tolerance to it's potent powers over time. Lezard also thought the man was probably damaging brain cells, might even be ruining his liver with such a horrid drink. But it was Randolf's decision to make, Lezard growling. 

"Keep that flask away from me." Lezard ordered, then gave him a side long glance. "You shouldn't be drinking anyway. You've got a report to give."

"Now, now friend. You know it'll take a lot more than a flask's worth to incapacitate me." Randolf retorted, still grinning. "If that weren't true you would have never selected me for this last mission."

"Being able to retain your mind's clarity while drunk was not one of the requirements!"

"Ah, but how else was I to ferret out the local's secrets without a few drinks in me?" asked Randolf. "They would have been suspicious if my cup went without touch. No, drinking was a necessity."

"As much as whoring with the local wenches?" inquired Lezard peevishly.

"The wenches tend to know more about the comings and going of the big shots than anyone else." Randolf was unrepentant. Lezard wondered what he had done more of, the brothels or the taverns on his travels. "I tell you, more secrets are revealed in between a woman's thighs than anywhere else in the world."

"I'll take your word for it." Lezard said stiffly. If there was one thing he had never done, was talk incessantly about private dealings. In bed or out of it, especially not to someone who didn't have a right to those secrets. It rather boggled his mind to think there were fools out there who were revealing information that others would want. Information people would fight for, pay for, even die over.

Fortunately with Randolf's methods, none had had to die for the blonde man to get those secrets. However the use of those secrets would see many dead, all unfortunate casualties caught in the crossfire of Queen Hel's ambitions. It wouldn't just be Odin's own who died, even those who served Hel were in danger, though Randolf's acquired information would do much to minimize the casualties of their own forces.

It was why they entered the library together. A meeting was about to be held. The library though large, was quite crowded under the best of circumstances. All due to the many bookcases that were crammed inside the room's four walls. Every available seat would be taken, and still some would have to stand. But there was no helping it, the library one of the only rooms big enough to both house a a large group, and have only one door to guard against potential eavesdroppers.

There was a mage on guard by the door. Some lesser nobleman who had had the unfortunate luck of being chosen for guard duty. He would keep everyone away, allowing the group inside to talk without fear of being overheard. The people present had been waiting for their Lord and Randolf's arrival, murmuring greetings as the two moved to take their seats.

Lezard nodded back, making himself as comfortable as he could manage. His eyes touched upon the familiar faces, noticing Sameer and Louville had managed to gain seating. Garrant was standing near the window, whose curtains had been drawn closed over it. It left the room dark, and a woman, Lorenta, was in the midst of lighting candles. There was others in the room, little more than a dozen men and women, all important members of Hel's planned invasion. 

Lezard knew there were other people. other factions elsewhere that owed loyalty to Hel. But the nation of Flenceburg was the one that would lead the Goddess' other cities, guide them into taking action against Odin. It would happen soon, though not today. Today's meeting was the start of things, the beginning of their plots, plans being set into motion. Or at least, that's what many gathered here assumed. Lezard himself planned to try and delay the actual enacting of the plots, all in order to buy Odin more time, and prevent Hel from gaining more souls to line her armies with.

Lorenta had finished with the candles, joining Garrant over by the window. She'd actually lean against it's sill, more than a little put out that no one had given up a seat to her. No one bothered with ledgers, there would be no note taking. To write down what was said would only invite the opportunity for the wrong person to get their hands on those papers. Everyone would have to do their best to simply remember what was said here, Lezard expecting that not to be a problem with this group. They were the best and brightest Flenceburg had to offer, even if Randolf had a penchant for indulging in women and wine excessively.

Seeing that everyone who should be there was present, Lezard slowly nodded his head. "Let us begin." A murmur of agreement from the group, Sameer gesturing for permission to talk. "Speak Sameer."

"The nation of Flenceburg has been increasing it's productivity." Sameer stated. "The amount of goods we can make and grow are being stockpiled even now. We are as self reliant as we can be, our warehouses full and ready to weather the upcoming problems that may come from our Goddess' war."

"That's good." Louville nodded his approval. "When the fighting starts, we will no longer be able to import things from Odin's lands..."

"I'd be more worried about what will happen if the fighting comes here." Interrupted a man named Hipsabe. "Can we withstand it if our crop fields are razed?"

"Food might become a little scarce..." Sameer admitted. "But our warehouses have enough to successfully feed our people for at least a year, provided we all show restraint with our appetites." A pointed look at the always hungry Randolf, who snorted in response.

"I think you should worry more about our mages." He said. "You know how voracious their appetites can be, especially when they are actively casting spells."

"It's all been taking into consideration." Sameer insisted. "Priority will be given to the battling mages when it comes to food rations."

"It's as it should be." Lezard spoke. "They will need to keep their energy reserves up if they want to be of use in the fighting." 

"If Queen Hel has her way...." Garrant said from over by the window. "Then we won't need to do much fighting now, will we?"

"That's the plan." Lezard nodded. They all knew, Hel wanted to avoid as much fighting in the take over of Midgard. Because for every warrior that died in battle, their souls would be sent to the heavens. There they would become einherjar, the soldiers of the Gods. Hel's intentions were to gain those warriors for her own armies, and the only way she could accomplish that was through theft. She had to ensure those warriors did not fight, but died a death without honor. The plagues would accomplish that most handily, delivering those souls into Hel's keep.

But there was danger in using the plagues, in being in close proximity to them. Lezard did not envy those who would be tasked with contaminating the cities, knowing their work could easily result in a death sentence. As if reading his mind, Lorenta was speaking. 

"How goes your research, Lord Lezard?"

"Not as swift as I would like." The lie came off his tongue smoothly, Lezard doing a frustrated grimace. "The strain of virus Hel would make use of, is proving particularly resistant to all medicines. I've not yet been able to find a remedy to counteract it completely." That troubled them all, the people shifting uncomfortably.

"Are we in danger from it as well?" Lorenta wanted to know.

"Not at the moment. But if one of our own gets infected...and brings that infection to us?" Another grimace, Lezard shrugging his shoulders. "It would be better to wait until the cures are found."

"But will our Queen wait any longer?" Louville asked.

"Surely she's not so big a fool as to risk her living army to bolster her dead one!" protested Hipsabe. "If anyone will win this war for her, it will be us mages!"

"If that were true, she would have been victorious decades before any of us were born." Lezard pointed out. "No, she needs more than just spell casters. She needs those able to fight, to be able to protect her magic users while they are in the midst of preparing spells. It will take both types working together to gain Queen Hel her victory."

A low muted grumble from Hipsabe, showing he did not think much of warriors, of the protection they would give the mages. "I will make our Queen understand the need to wait just a little longer." Continued Lezard. "I am confidant the medicinal breakthrough we need is just around the corner." Another lie on his part, Lezard having long ago discovered the cures needed to counteract the diseases Hel would unleash on the land.

"Work swiftly but take care." Lorenta advised him with a thin smile. "We cannot afford to lose you, my Lord."

"Thank you Lorenta." He smiled back at her. "But there will always be someone able to replace me should the unthinkable happen."

"None as capable as you though!" protested Randolf. "Honestly, what is Queen Hel thinking, having her best man work with such a dangerous disease?"

"Queen Hel can still make use of me, even if I were to succumb to her plague." Lezard pointed out with a sigh.

"Hmph." Randolf snorted. "You know as well as I do, that when we die, our powers diminish by half at least."

"Ah but is not our Lord the most powerful of any mage to ever exist?" inquired Lorenta. "I think even if his power was cut in half, Lord Lezard would still be a formidable opponent."

"Our Goddess is no fool." Insisted Randolf, having to choose his words carefully to avoid blaspheming. "She will want to use Lezard at his full potential."

"She will want to make use of us all." Lezard said, trying to put an end to such talk. "Even a single mage might make the difference towards victory." He smiled then. trying to appear relaxed. "Don't worry. I have no intention of dying any time soon."

"Intentions are all well and good..." grumbled Randolf. "But even you cannot predict the future." He looked at Lezard, his brown eyes full of concern. "I wish you'd delegate this dangerous work to someone else..."

"I am no coward." Lezard retorted. 

Randolf's face flashed his alarm. "I meant to imply no such thing!"

"Nor would I endanger some lesser mage with this kind of work." That was the truth, Lezard knowing few would be able to handle the containment spells needed to keep the disease from affecting themselves and anyone else they came in contact with. Of the mages gathered in the library, only three might stand a chance of managing containment. And none of them were eager to volunteer towards risking their own necks.

"Queen He's plagues will sweep across Midgard." Lezard continued. "They will target Odin's holdings. That fool God will never realize the truth of what is happening until it's too late. By that time, thousands will have died. He won't even be able to muster up a feeble defense with those that remain."

"And then our armies will move in to crush the last resistance." Louville grinned. 

Lezard nodded. "By that point, it won't matter if a few die while fighting. It will be slim pickings for the King of the heavens. He will have to make do with whatever einherjar are left from the war with the undead." 

There was smiles all around, the group feeling confidant about their chances in invading the heavens. Lezard smiled too, though inwardly he was worried. Hel's plans were too good, too close to seizing victory for the underworld. Lezard could only hope Odin would take to heart his warnings, use the medicines the mage had produced, as well as up the divine protection around the cities. Odin could very well put a blessing so strong it would keep out the worse of the plagues, though Lezard wondered if the God would be willing to expend such a huge amount of energy to do so.

Lezard inwardly grimaced, knowing in the end he could only make suggestions to the God. It was up to Odin if he made use of the suggestions or not, though Lezard had a feeling he himself would suffer for any losses Odin occurred. But he didn't so much as shudder, keeping his calm facade up as he gazed at the people around him. "Randolf, why don't you tell us just what you've discovered in your two weeks away from Flenceburg?"

Randolf grinned, and nodded. "As you know, I spent much time visiting several cities. Including that of Odin's most holiest strongholds, that of Crell Monferaigne."

"And I take it by your grin you have something substantial to report?" asked Sameer.

"My time was not wasted." Randolf nodded again. "The city stronghold is immense as you all are aware of. They've many protection spells on it, though nothing boosted by a God's blessing." Randolf chuckled "It will be child's play for our own mages to unravel those spells."

"But will we be able to unravel them without the original casters aware of the spell's destruction?" inquired Lorenta.

"You need to even ask?" Hipsabe demanded. "As if a mage abandoned by Queen Hel could ever hope to be half as powerful as those blessed by our Goddess. I dare say we can destroy those spells, and none would be the wiser. Not until the plague rolls in, and many have died from it's contamination."

"Randolf, what say you?" Sameer asked, and all eyes were drawn back to the blonde man.

"I did a minor testing of the protection spells. They're strong, but not so strong that we couldn't break them with ease. The real problem lays in how many there are. It will take some time and a great number of mages working together to get them all." 

"Can it be done from afar?" Lezard asked, knowing they couldn't send a large party of mages inside the stronghold. Only a small party like Randolf's could move without suspicion in the city, and that party had been too small to deal with the amount of protection spells Randolf had discovered.

"Hmm...I say yes. We don't have to be inside the city to break it's protection." Randolf's brow furrowed, the man concentrating. "If you can get within a half a mile of each spell's location...."

"And do you have the locations?" demanded Louville. "And what of the spells INSIDE the city's heart?"

"We will have to send in someone to take care of the center of the city." Randolf sighed. "I've seen the maps, did the calculations. The center falls short of the half mile radius, no matter what direction you approach it from. By my reckoning, there are three spells in the heart that needs canceling out."

"Sounds easy enough then." Lezard thought it might be too easy for his own liking. "What else have you discovered?"

"Oh the typical things you'd expect." Randolf grinned. "Free drink causes no end to the amount of talking certain people are willing to do. I've learned the schedules of the mages that power the spells."

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" Hipsabe demanded. "We could solve all our problems by targeting those casters!"

"No Hipsabe." Lezard demurred. "If we start killing off Crell Monferaigne's mages, Odin will become suspicious. We can't risk that...if Odin so much as thinks Hel is making a move, not only will he end this sham of an alliance, but he will brings arms against us. The last thing Hel wants is a battle that will bolster the number of souls the heavens gain."

"We'll have to be subtle." Agreed Sameer. "We can't actively kill off those mages. We'll have to chance it with the plagues, hope the sickness Hel sends takes care of Odin's mages."

"Don't know why you're so worried about them." Randolf said. "The power I tasted, can't compare to what we're capable of. However! I have information that will help sneak our mages into the city. Between the taverns and the brothels, I learned just who shirks their duty for women and wine, and how often. It will be no hardship to do away with those guards, or to sneak in under their watch. There's even a guard on the city gate who is prone to bribery, providing the gold is a large enough amount."

There was other things Randolf had discovered, the man detailing those who were prone to make trouble, and those who were not. There were more guards then Lezard had expected, who slacked off while on duty. Guards who slept too much, drank too much, bullied too much. Randolf seemed to know many names, along with the time and locations of where each of these men would be. It wasn't hard to come up with a plan based on the timelines Randolf provided for them.

The group was satisfied by the time the meeting was over with. They felt confidant of the plans, thinking it would only be a matter of time before Crell Monferaigne fell to Hel's plagues. Lezard didn't know for certain what would happen. He didn't know if Odin would give him that city, or if the God would weave his divine protection over it. The God was just that unpredictable.

His worry apparently showed through his eyes, Randolf suddenly thrusting the flash in front of Lezard's face. Immediately the pungent smell of Randolf's special brew assaulted him, Lezard jerking back with a scowl. "No thank you!" 

"Sorry. Looked like you could use a drink." Randolf said, then proceeded to finish off the flask. "What's troubling you, my friend?"

"Who says I'm troubled?"

"It's plain to read off of your face." Randolf told him. Sameer who had not yet left the library, drew near with a nod. 

"Is it the diseases you work with? Is that what has you so worried?"

"Not at all." Lezard insisted. "My work is progressing well with that."

"Then what?" demanded Randolf. "You've been borderline tense this whole meeting." Lezard was surprised, thinking he had hid his unease well.

"Have I?" Lezard wondered out loud, then shrugged. "Just have a lot on my mind...."

"We all do." Agreed Sameer. "Which is why the wedding will be a welcome break from it all." His look became shrewd, Sameer eyeing Lezard. "But somehow I can't help but wonder if your...frustrations are not born of your impending nuptials, rather than anything to do with our Queen's invasion."

"Am I that easy to read?" Lezard asked, sighing. "I've made a mess of things with Lenneth." It wasn't an easy admission, his shoulder sagging as he talked. "She's so...so angry with me now."

"Angry? Why?" Randolf wanted to know. Lezard and Sameer both fixed him with an annoyed look.

"Why do you think?" Demanded Lezard. Randolf looked as though he was in deep thought, clearly trying to puzzle it out. Sameer would sigh loudly in response. 

"I take it the lady did not appreciate you in Randolf's words, trying to kiss her senseless?"

"No. Not at all." Lezard admitted. He would not go into detail, would not admit that he had tried to do more than kiss Lenneth. All in an attempt to protect her honor, and save himself the embarrassment of her rejection. 

"I know!" Randolf grinned, hardly looking apologetic. "If kisses won't work, then try gifts."

"Gifts?"

"You know...flowers...jewels!" Randolf explained.

"Do you think she would even like those things?" Lezard asked.

"Why not? She is a woman after all. They like receiving things." Randolf insisted.

"Ah..." Sameer interjected. "It might be wiser to wait and discover more about your betrothed. To find out what sort of things she likes, before you just start throwing things at her, in the hopes she'll react favorably."

"Sounds wise." Agreed Lezard. "Unfortunately I don't know if she'll let me near long enough to get to know about her!"

"You have to try though!"

"For once Randolf and I are in complete agreement." Added Sameer with a sardonic smile. "Seek her out, engage her interest. TALK to her."

Lezard knew he was a coward then. "I have work to do....those cures won't discover themselves." 

Sameer sighed. "Your work can wait for another day....your relationship with Lenneth is just as important as the work you do for our queen." Lezard knew that to be true. And yet he continued to hesitate. To the point Sameer let out an exasperated sound. "You'll never have more out of your relationship with her, if you don't take risks. Yes, there is the potential to fail, to be rejected. But there is also the chance to succeed!"

"He's right! You should go for it!" Randolf exclaimed. "Besides, it's better to make amends now, to find out where you stand with her, rather than wait until the wedding night. Because to have an unhappy bride will be the true disaster."

That decided it, Lezard not wanting Lenneth to be unhappy. "Very well." He said, rising out of his seat. "You've both convinced me. Thank you." He paused for a quick acknowledgment of his words by both men, and then left the library. He was in far better spirits than he had been all day, Lezard determined to seek out Lenneth and somehow fix the mess he had drunkenly made last night.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued of course!


	29. Twenty Nine

The front lawn of the castle was littered with bodies, both sides having suffered numerous losses. The corpses lay everywhere, their blood soiling the ground. There had not yet been time to organize a disposal for the bodies, the ceasefire being slow to take effect. Neither side had wanted to stop the fighting, both Asgardians and vampires eager for each other's deaths. His people were especially reluctant, and with good reason. They had been winning the battle, not only stopping the invasion in it's tracks, but actually slaughtering most of the Asgardians.

The remaining Valkyrie and their einherjar had been loathe to accept the temporary truce. They did not trust the reasons behind it, nor were they so cowardly as to flee the first chance they got. These Goddesses and the souls that served them seemed determined to fight to their deaths, to the very end of their existence rather than return to Odin disgraced.

Brahms did not expect them to leave the island before tomorrow night. The Valkyries had already made clear their stance on such an option. But they accepted the temporary ceasefire, if only so they could gather up their own dead. Bonfires were being built, the Valkyrie determined to burn the bodies of their brethren that had fallen on the battlefield.

His vampires were doing the same, dragging corpses to the field opposite that of the Valkyrie's bonfires. There was too many dead to hold individual burials. A mass burning was the best they could offer the fallen. Brahms stood on top the ramparts of the castle, keeping a watchful eye on both factions. The animosity was still there, both sides broiling with tension. It wouldn't take much for them to abandon their current tasks, and engage in the fighting once more.

Brahms couldn't' fault them for that. He too wanted to battle, the predatory impulses inside him not satisfied with the way the fight with Hrist and her einherjar had ended. It left him with unspent, nervous energy, Brahms fighting not to fidget in place as he gazed down at the people below. It was difficult to face one's mortal enemy and not have it end with the death of one or the other. Even worse was to let them go with the understanding they might be so foolish as to come back and make another attempt on one's life.

Or the life of one's mate, Brahms' voicing a low growl. He hoped that einherjar Arngrim would be able to talk some sense into Hrist. But he didn't hold favorable odds on the chances of that. Brahms suspected he would encounter Hrist again, and that next battle would surely end with one of them dead. He couldn't, wouldn't let Hrist continue to threaten Silmeria. And he thought Silmeria would understand that, now that the girl had come to WANT to live.

The miracle of that realization was almost enough to expunge the tension out of him, Brahms wanting to smile. He still wasn't sure how such a miracle could have occurred, but the fact remained that it had. Silmeria was no longer foolishly ready to throw her life away. She wanted to live, to experience all she could. Even if it meant doing it as a vampire. It gave Brahms hope, the vampire king wondering what experiences he could give her, what sights he could show her. Brahms felt confidant this was a new beginning for himself and his bride. 

Of course he was well aware Silmeria's new acceptance didn't guarantee anything. She might continue to fight him, to deny the attraction between them. But Brahms could deal with that, take small steps with her. They had already taken the first, Silmeria admitting she wanted to live after all. Another could be the fact she had thanked him for sparing her sister's life. Brahms wanted to take more steps, to build upon them a future together with Silmeria.

He couldn't rush her though. Brahms knew he would have to tread very carefully in his dealings with Silmeria. As much as he wanted for their relationship, he couldn't force things. Not without running the risk of damaging his chances permanently. Which is why he had to handle her first feeding with extreme care. But Brahms couldn't hide his excitement at the thought, the vampire looking forward to his bride at last feeding. 

He wasn't just excited, he was impatient. Brahms wanted to go to Silmeria at once. But he was aware of his own condition, and though his numerous wounds had at last stopped bleeding, Brahms was still weakened. He himself needed to feed, if he wanted any chance of sustaining both his bride and himself through the night. He grumbled, and wondered where was Gideon, the vampire having been sent to fetch a human off the mainland for Brahms' appetite.

It made him pace, Brahms moving but keeping a constant eye on the crowd below him. The vampires and Valkyries were being careful to avoid contact with one another. One group would walk over to the bodies, and gather their fallen. Once clear, the other group would pick up theirs. The vampires had little interest in the bodies of the dead Asgardians. Not with their spilled blood cold and without the vitality of life to it. The undead monsters however, would be having a fit, wanting to eat those bodies, wanting to consume the flesh of the dead.

It was really all Brahms could do to quiet their complaints down, the vampire lord exerting his control over the undead to send them as far away from the castle as the island would permit. He knew the undead wouldn't die from skipping a night's meal. Not even a week without feeding could end their existence, each type of undead needing a specific type of killing in order to die.

The way he handled the undead present this night, would not prove popular. Fortunately for Brahms, such was his power, his control over them, that they could do little. The zombies and ghouls, the dozens of other creatures would have no choice but to obey their Lord. All his whims and wishes theirs, even if it made them suffer the agony of hunger unsatisfied. They couldn't regress into anything worse, they weren't like the vampires who could turn revenant if they didn't feed often enough.

As upset as the undead would be, Brahms knew he would also have to contend with his vampire's dissatisfaction. His order for a temprarely cease fire was not a popular one. Nor did they understand his reasons behind it, especially when they had been winning. It would not do to tell them he had acted on his bride's behalf, and if the Valkyries did indeed leave, Brahms shudder to think what would happen if another hunting party came to the island. The smart thing was to slaughter every last Asgardian. It was the only message Odin would understand and respect. It might be the only thing they could do to keep Odin from sending even more Valkyries to their island home.

Even if Odin wanted Silmeria dead, he couldn't afford to waste all his soldiers on the attempt. Not with so many vampires and undead monsters lurking on the plains of Idavoll, waiting for their chance to march on the castle, Valhalla. Brahms was surprised at just how many Odin had spared for this island invasion. It made him wary, but also suspicious of the God's intentions. Did Odin suspect Silmeria was close to learning the truth behind the war? Is that why he pushed so hard for her death? Or did Odin merely want to take from Brahms, his first real happiness in ages?

Odin wanted Brahms dead, that much was true. But not just Brahms, he wanted all of the vampires dead. The monsters that made up the undead legions were a nuisance to the God, but hardly a race he wanted to wipe out. Not if there stood a chance he could control them in place of Brahms. Odin cared little for their appetites, and the prey they fed off of. He just cared about power, the amassing of it, and the using of it.

Of course, all that power would be a moot point if Odin could rid himself of his two hated enemies. Brahms was one, and to a lesser extent, Hel was another. But Hel was hardly a threat, at least not when it came to fighting wars. She just barely manages to defend herself, to keep Odin from snuffing out her existence. She could have stayed off of Odin's radar if only she had kept away from Brahms all those millennia ago. But if she had stayed away, Brahms probably wouldn't have survived those first years on Midgard. He owed much to the Goddess of Nifleheim, even if they were no longer on the best of terms due to all that had happened.

Brahms could have lost himself to thoughts of the past, the memories wanting to press in on him, but he sensed power gathering near to where he stood. Brahms straightened, turning already to greet the vampire that was teleporting onto the narrow walkway. "Ah Gideon...I was beginning to think you had gotten yourself staked while running my errands."

"Never that, my King." The vampire with the salt and pepper colored hair flashed a thin smile. In his arms he held a burly human, the man nearly bald. He was of broad chest, skin a healthy color. The human looked robust enough to feed several vampires, even ones as hungry as Brahms and Silmeria both were. His green eyes were glazed over, the human bespelled by Gideon's compulsion. 

It was apparent by the look of the human, the reason for Gideon's delay. The vampire had spent his time well, carefully choosing out a human capable enough to feed both his King and queen. Brahms nodded his thanks to the vampire, already stepping forward to take hold of the balding man. He would not drain this human to the death, but the man would be sick for the next few days. That could not be avoided, Brahms needing blood badly. But nowhere to the extent that Silmeria needed it.

"So...it's going to happen tonight?" Gideon inquired, watching as Brahms ran his clawed fingers over the side of the human's neck. "She's really going to feed?"

"That is my hope." Brahms answered, his fangs lengthening in his mouth. It became difficult to talk around their length, but Brahms managed. His voice was a distorted growl, already the scent of the blood inside this human was calling to him. "Silmeria wants to live now. And to do that, she must feed."

"Can it really be that easy..." Gideon wondered, turning away once Brahms sunk his fangs into the man's neck. The vampire was watching the area below them, alert for any attacks that might come while Brahms' fed. "She may want to live...but can she really take that final step towards sustaining her life?"

Brahms could no longer answer, not with his mouth otherwise engaged. The rich taste of the human's blood filled him, health and vitality flowing through him as Brahms swallowed down large mouthfuls of it. There were so many urges going through him as he fed, the strongest being the urge to drink this human to his death. It took a lot of control, a lot of strength for Brahms to be careful as he fed. He would drink only enough, and that amount would never be enough to endanger the human. It would only weaken him, the man awakening in his home, thinking he had come down with some kind of illness.

As he fed, he felt his energy restoring, his body healing. The cuts all over him? They started to mend, skin closing seamlessly, leaving no scar to identify where the injury had first existed. Brahms felt good, though not as good as a Valkyrie's blood would have made him feel. But it was more than enough, Brahms risking pulling on the vein one last time, filling himself to the point he thought his veins would burst from too much blood.

His arms were supporting the human, the man no longer able to stand on his own when Brahms pulled back from the feeding. Gideon turned to look at him, and nodded his approval.   
"You look well."

"I feel good." Brahms told him. "Better than I have in a while now...." But it didn't all have to do with the blood he had drank. Brahms was full of excitement and anticipation, readying himself to feed Silmeria for the first time ever.

"I do not meant to bring down your mood but...Try not to get your hopes up." Gideon advised. "Silmeria has had a way of disappointing you in the past..." 

"Fear not Gideon." Brahms was already passing over the human to Gideon's waiting arms. "I expect nothing from her, except for her to feed."

"You know a feeding can bring more to it than just the easing of one's hunger. Can you remain impartial to the desires she will rouse? The desires she may not be prepared to act on?"

Brahms tried not to be annoyed, knowing Gideon only spoke out of concern for him. "I will manage." 

"It's not that I doubt you..." Gideon said. "But being fed on by one's bride....it is a powerful experience. Take care you do not jeopardize things between you with the emotions she stirs up."

"I will be careful." Brahms promised him. Gideon didn't look like he believed him, and all because Brahms was about to experience a first in his life. The first of one's mate feeding off him. It excited him just thinking about it. It was no wonder Brahms could do little to reassure Gideon of his worries. "Stay here and watch over our people. Make sure no one crosses a line that plunges both sides back into fighting."

"As you wish." Gideon bowed his head, putting the unconscious human down on the stones of the walkway. It wouldn't be until much later, when Brahms could return to his post, that Gideon would be allowed to return the human to his home on the main land. But for now there was no time, Brahms flexing his muscles, enjoying how that movement came without any sharp pain. He didn't linger for much longer than that, Brahms teleporting into the castle.

He'd arrive just outside the bedroom, noting that someone, Vandimeer most likely, had repaired the door. He'd smile at the man's thoughtfulness, thinking it typical that Vandimeer had seen to that which might have been overlooked by another. Most vampires wouldn't have seen fixing the door as a necessity for feeding. After all, vampires can and did feed in front of others. But this was to be Silmeria's first feeding, which made it special. Brahms wanted her to have no reason to balk against giving in to her hungers.

Having a door they could close would go a long way towards relaxing Silmeria. She would surely appreciate the sense of privacy it gave them both. He'd appreciate it too, Brahms knowing this first feeding held the potential to get intense. Just the thought of it had him excited, nervous anticipation that had Brahms wiping his sweating palms on the back of his leather trousers.

By the time Vandimeer pulled open the door, Brahms was as composed as he could manage. He didn't exactly exude confidence, but neither did he shy away, or act like an over enthusiastic fledgling. Vandimeer said something, some greeting that Brahms barely paid attention to. And all because he was already looking past Vandimeer towards Silmeria.

She was a pale beauty, her tanned skin suffering from the amount of blood she had lost so recently. Feeding would do much to restore her color, restore it to that healthy flush of when she had first awakened. It would take weeks for the tan to fade away completely. Silmeria would be sun kissed for a while yet. Even once she became pale like his people, Silmeria would still be stunning.

Silmeria surely felt Brahms' eye upon her. It was clear she was making an effort not to look at him, leaning against the wall furthest from the door. Her arms were crossed over her chest, bearing marks from Hrist's sword. A shiver went though him, Brahms recalling how he had used his tongue to clean those cuts while they had still been bleeding. She has gasped at the first touch of his tongue, but ultimately Silmeria had held still for his treatment. Brahms hoped she'd be as easy to manage when it came to feeding for a struggle would do neither of them any good.

"My Lord?" Vandimeer's voice from besides him did not draw the vampire king's attention away from Silmeria. But Brahms spoke, voice a curt command.

"Gideon is up on the northern ramparts. I would have you join him there."

"At once." Vandimeer acknowledged with a slight bow. Brahms felt the power gather, the dark haired vampire teleporting away before he had straightened from his bow. Brahms made sure to ease the door close behind him, the soft click of the lock engaging seeming to make Silmeria flinch in response. But she still wouldn't look at him. Brahms wondered if it was a coping mechanism of hers, or if it was an attempt to deny what was about to happen between them. 

Whatever the case, it frustrated Brahms. He wanted, NEEDED to see her eyes. Wanted to gaze into their beautiful blue color one last time. To memorize everything about them before they changed forever. Her feeding would turn them crimson, as though staining them with the blood she would take into her body. It would still be Silmeria, no matter what color her eyes were, but the change was something that marked his people as vampires. 

Of all the changes of the vampires, the eyes were the ones that prevented them from being able to walk as normal people. Vampires could control the length of their fangs, shift their claws into nails. But never could they fix their eyes. 

"Silmeria...."

"I can hear the fighting has stopped." She interrupted him, giving an offhand gesture to the room's window. "Is it really over or...?"

"It's not over." Brahms told her. "Both sides have merely agreed to a temporary cease fire in order to tend to their dead." That hand of hers resumed it's place over her chest, Silmeria gripping her arms with her claws. The way she was hunching over, it gave Brahms the impression it was from hunger. The pain of it that fierce. He immediately began walking towards her, concern for her in his every thought and action.

"What happens after?" Silmeria asked, her claws seeming to dig in harder into her skin. "Will the Valkyrie and their einherjar be allowed to leave the island?"

"That is entirely up to them." Brahms said. "I've given them a reprieve from the fighting. A chance to leave the island. It is up to them whether or not they take it. But Silmeria? If they remain and try to resume the fight tomorrow night, we vampires WILL finish them."

Was that a shudder that shook through Silmeria's body? And did it have to do with Brahms words, or more to do with her hunger? It could even be both, Silmeria battling her appetites, and fear for her former people.

"It has gone badly for the Valkyries hasn't it?" Silmeria asked. Her head was lifting at his approach, Brahms being blessed with the beautiful blue color of her eyes. 

"Yes." He nodded, holding her gaze with his own crimson colored one. "The Valkyrie and their einherjar were many, but this is our home. The only one we vampires have at the moment. Is it any wonder we fought harder than ever to defend it?"

"No...it makes sense...It is as you say. Your home. Who else would know the lay of the land better, than those who live on this island."

"It's your home too now." Brahms pointed out. But he didn't smile, well aware she might reject him and the home he offered her. Indeed Silmeria made no comment on that, just turning away from him to step closer to the window. "Someday....I'd like to take you on a tour of the island..."

"Did you see to my sister and her einherjar's safe passage?" Silmeria abruptly switched topics. So fast, Brahms blinked in surprise.

"Yes. I've had Gideon spread the word. Out of all the remaining Valkyrie and einherjar, those two are not to be touched. No matter what happens tomorrow night, those two will be left alone. It is up to them what they do from there."

"And if my sister refuses to abandon me to my fate?" Silmeria inquired.

"You know what will be done." Brahms told her. Her shoulders seemed to stiffen, he could feel the agitation that stirred in his bride at those words. "Silmeria please....for one night do not worry about Hrist."

"What would you have me do instead?" Silmeria demanded. "Think only of myself?!"

"You can't keep worrying about your sisters. Not all the time at least. You've taken a big step tonight, in acknowledging that you want to live. Now is the time to do more than acknowledge it, to actively do what is needed to keep yourself healthy and whole." He paused, hating to ask, but needed to know. "Or are you already regretting not laying down your life to Hrist's sword?"

"No." Silmeria shook her head, her blond hair caressing over her back. "I don't regret the realization I have had. But, it's not an easy thing to know my sisters won't be happy with my choice. That they would actively seek to bring an end to me, even now that I've decided I want to live!"

"They are ignorant." Silmeria made a protesting sound at that, but Brahms spoke over her. "They like so many others have been blinded by Odin's lies. They would condemn you for what you've become. Damn you as thoroughly as Odin has damned the vampires. They believe you, and me, to be soulless monsters. But we are just a people, an existence gifted in many ways, cursed in others. My vampires merely want a place to exist, to live without threat to their lives."

"But you....we...are unnatural beings. Not created by the Gods." Silmeria whispered.

Brahms almost laughed then. She couldn't be farther off from the truth then if Silmeria had purposefully tried. But then he couldn't blame her. Few if any people could imagine the truth behind the vampires' origins. But it was a story Odin did his best to keep hidden, a story that not even a handful of people knew the truth behind. It was a story Brahms himself hadn't spoken of in a millennia, the vampire Lord keeping it his private burden.

Of course, in the beginning, Brahms HAD tried to tell people. But few if any had been willing to believe, and Odin quickly killed off any who had heard the story, regardless of their belief. If Odin had his way, the god would have the true origins of the vampires die with Brahms and Hel. He'd bury them, just as surely as he buried the truths and reasons behind the war.

The memories were heavy on his mind tonight. It was as though they were stirred by the fact he was about to feed his bride, and through that feeding reveal to her his past. There would be no avoiding it. Once Silmeria had enough of Brahms' blood in her, she would pick up on his past experiences. She would see his life, see him for what he was, both good and bad. It was actually unnerving to think he was about to expose himself so thoroughly to her. And yet he wanted that connection.

"Silmeria...you are wrong in your assumptions." Brahms said to her. Silmeria turned slowly to look at him, blue eyes full of doubts. But amidst the uncertainty, he could see how hungry she was. "It is no fault of your own. Odin has kept you, kept everyone ignorant of the truth."

"There you go again." Her tone came out fierce, Silmeria glaring at him. "Making claims that Odin has lied to us Valkyries."

"He has." Brahms insisted. "And in ways I doubt you could imagine. Your world is about to change. Everything you knew, everything you believed in? It's going to be turned upside down."

"Because I'm about to feed?" He was glad Silmeria didn't try to deny what was about to happen. It just proved she was ready, actually accepting this aspect of her life.

"Because of that and more. Do you remember what I told you about there being memory in the blood?" Silmeria nodded. "When you feed, the memories will come. You will see things you never imagined, never though possible. You will learn the truth, the very foundation of your world shattering apart. This is no easy thing I offer you. You will put an end to your hunger, but open up new doors. The information you gain, it's enough to make Odin want to kill over."

"Odin would already have me dead." Silmeria pointed out. "There's nothing that can change that."

"You're right about that." Agreed Brahms. He reached for her hands, feeling Silmeria stiffen in response to that unasked for touch. "There's no doubt in my mind that the invasion force was so large because Odin feared you already knew about him."

"I'm not yet ready to believe in this truth you claim to have." Silmeria told him.

"But believe in it you must." Brahms insisted. "You won't be able to deny my memories."

She fixed him with a look then. "We shall see about that."

"You are confidant." He said approvingly. "That will serve you well." 

She let out a shaky breath. "I don't feel very confidant in the moment." Silmeria admitted.

Brahms gave her a serious look. "Are you frightened?" It was enough that she hesitated, letting him know Silmeria was indeed afraid of what was about to happen. "Don't be. You can't hurt me."

"Are you so sure about that?" Silmeria asked. "I mean.....I'm so hungry....hungrier than I can ever recall being....what if your blood isn't enough? What if I need more? What if it's too late, and I'm already on my way to becoming a revenant?" 

"Silmeria, fear not." Brahms was caressing his thumbs over the pulse points in her wrists. "That you can still think of these concerns, it shows your mind is still your own."

"It doesn't make them any less valid!" She protested. He lifted her hands to his face, teasingly running his fangs over one finger. She seemed to shudder in response, her blue eyes riveted on the sight of his teeth on her skin. "Trying to distract me from my worries does not inspire any confidence..."

"You need to trust me...."

"I don't know if I can!" A terse admittance, but her eyes were still staring at his mouth. 

"Do you trust me enough to feed you?" He asked, more curious than anything else. 

Again she hesitated. "It's not that I trust you..." He had to fight not to prick her finger open for even one drop of blood. Not when she was starving so badly. "It's more I don't trust myself to feed on anyone else." Her eyes lowered, Silmeria ashamed. It left Brahms with the realization that the only reason she was allowing him to feed her, was that Silmeria feared draining anyone else to death.

"Fear not." Brahms said out loud, lowering her hands. "I am more than capable of satisfying ALL your appetites." Her gaze jerked up at that, the blue flashing with annoyance. Silmeria had caught the insinuation in his promise. She didn't like it, but Brahms was already turning from her. But he didn't let go of her hand, using his grip on her wrist to urge her to follow him over to a chair.

Silmeria's steps were reluctant, the girl trailing uncertainly in his wake. Brahms would sit down, her right wrist still captive in his massive grip. Brahms wanted to pull Silmeria down onto his lap, but somehow he restrained that impulse. Instead he fixed her with a serious look, ignoring the way his heart seemed to quicken it's tempo. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Silmeria said, still resisting when he pulled her closer. She wouldn't go down on his lap, the former Valkyrie actually putting a hand out to stop herself from falling. That hand of hers would land on Brahms' chest, the skin there exposed by the open sides of his vest. The touch was an electric feeling, both vampires gasping. Silmeria's eyes went wider, she was staring at were her hand was now. Her body was positioned between Brahms' spread legs, and all she needed to do was bend forward slightly to bite him.

But Silmeria wasn't taking that final step, instead just standing there. Through the wrist he held, Brahms could feel the tension in her arm, Silmeria still holding herself so stiff. He studied her as she stared at him, her hand frozen on his chest. A full minute would go by, his heart beat seeming to ring in his ears.

"What's wrong?" Brahms asked softly. Silmeria just shook her head no, not saying anything. "Come now. You can't actually hurt me. It will be fine." That hand of hers was holding her back, keeping Brahms from plastering her against his body. Silmeria's fangs had lengthened, the lower tips pressing into her pouty bottom lip. It was a sensual sight, the white fangs on top of the reddish pink lips.

She was on the verge, so close to feeding and yet still holding back. Silmeria had gone as still as a statue, refusing to do anything, let alone feed. "Silmeria?"

"I...I can't..." She finally whispered.

"You can." He insisted.

"No....it's not as easy as I thought it would be."

"Nothing is ever as easy." He teased, and raised her right hand towards his neck. Brahms knew what he had to do, the thing needed to give Silmeria that final irresistible push towards feeding. He place her hand against his neck, and using her own claws, began to slice open his skin. He never broke eye contact with her as he did this, Brahms watching as Silmeria's eyes widened. He even saw the gasp that escaped her, felt the trembles that started in her arm. And then Silmeria's eyes closed, the blood welling out of him.

But try as she might to block out the fact that Brahms was bleeding, Silmeria couldn't. Her nostrils flared, showing she had scented the blood. A low voiced growl rumbled out of her, Brahms no longer needed to hold her hand. Instead Silmeria fingered the blood, getting her fingers thoroughly coated with it before bringing them to her lips. Her tongue snaked out, the vampire tasting blood for the first time. She moaned, and her eyes opened. But it was not Brahms' face she looked out, Silmeria instead staring at his neck.

Brahms stared transfixed at the way Silmeria deftly cleaned the blood off her fingers. The hand on his chest moved, sliding over muscles in it's travel towards his throat. And when it reached it's destination, her claws began to dig into the cut, to quicken the blood flow. Brahms let out a hiss, cautioning her. "Your fangs Silmeria. Use your fangs!"

She seemed to nod in understanding, placing her right hand on his shoulder. The left hand continue to play with the blood, smearing it across his skin. Silmeria would bend over him, Brahms moaning when he felt her tongue press against the cut. She'd lick at the bleeding wound, tongue washing over every inch of it, and it was all Brahms could do not to snarl. 

"Fangs!" He said, his hand fisting in the back of her hair. He heard Silmeria snarl, her eyes wild in the moment. But he forced her to look at him, the grip on her hair a controlling one. "Feed with your fangs...." 

Was that a petulant pout that crossed her lips? It flashed by so quickly, Silmeria hissing as Brahms released his hold on her hair. The instant she was free, Silmeria went for his neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin of his pulse point. He shuddered, his hands going to grip Silmeria's waist. She'd hiss in warning, assuming Brahms was trying to pull her away. But he wasn't, Brahms merely gripping her closer to him. 

His heart beat was thundering in his ears, his pulse rocketing faster. Her teeth continued to caress over his skin, Silmeria not yet biting down. He tried not to tense in anticipation, for that would only make her bite hurt. And yet Brahms couldn't quite control his reaction, his excitement coming off him in waves. One last scrape of her teeth, and then he felt the pointed tips pushing into his skin.

It was an uncertain bite, not that pleasurable compared to a sure one. And still Brahms moaned, his grip on Silmeria's waist turning bruising. "Harder!" He gritted out, commanding her. "Bite down with all you've got." 

It didn't take much more than that to get Silmeria to do as he wanted. She instantly clamped down, her fangs sinking beneath his skin. He felt the pull on his vein, Silmeria quickly figuring out how to draw the blood out of him in large mouthfuls. And with that pull, the pleasure came, Brahms moaning. His own eyes closed, Brahms whispering her name. "Silmeria!"

She actually purred, reveling in feeding from him. Her hands were moving, one in his hair, smoothing back the spiky tips of his long, dark mane. The other hand was caressing up and down his muscled arm, her claws teasing over his bare skin. Brahms found he could not be still, trembling in reaction. It was a struggle to behave, to keep his hands in place around her slim waist. He wanted so badly to touch her, to return Silmeria's caresses.

And then she bent a leg, her knee pressing against his groin as Silmeria pressed more insistently against him. That knee of hers ground against his groin, his own sex reacting. What blood Silmeria didn't take, quickly went to his groin, his cock lengthening, becoming stiff. Brahms found himself pushing back against her knee, grinding with her to increase his immense pleasure. 

His claws were tearing open the sides of her dress, digging holes into the fabric from how hard he gripped her. Brahms wouldn't be surprised if he bled her, but Silmeria did not notice, too taken with the taste of his blood. Silmeria continued to purr, drawing harder on his vein. A few more pulls, and she would have to stop. And yet he didn't want her to, Brahms moaning, wishing she would put her hands elsewhere on his body. And then he was acting, grabbing her by the wrists. She growled a warning but did not fight him, Brahms forcing Silmeria to slide her hands down his waist.

He was concentrating so hard on making her go lower, that Brahms nearly missed it when the lightheaded feeling began to overtake him. He opened his eyes, noticing the room seem to be spinning. That was the signal to stop, Brahms reluctantly letting go of Silmeria's hands. But she didn't stop touching him, actually pawing at his body. His words came out a strangled moan, Brahms reaching for her shoulders.

"Enough Silmeria....enough..."

She didn't immediately pull back, greedily trying for another mouthful. Brahms would start to ease her back carefully so that her fangs didn't tear out of his skin. Silmeria made a whining sound, eyes still fixed on the bleeding puncture wounds. There was more to do, more to teach her, but he had a feeling she hadn't yet recovered enough to lick his wound close. So he kept her at a distance, Brahms looking over her body to make sure her wounds had sealed seamlessly shut. He couldn't help noticing other things about her, the way her own arousal and satisfaction came off of Silmeria.

Her eyes were glazed over, not yet changed completely. But there was already flecks of crimson amidst the blue. Her lips were a dark red, and Brahms wanted nothing more than to kiss them with the pretext of licking them clean. 

Silmeria's body was still trembling, and her breath was coming out faster. She kept looking at his neck, as though she would fall upon him the first chance he gave her. Even worse, he wanted to give her that chance. Wanted to experience the pleasure of her bite once more. If it was half as arousing for her as it had been for him, no wonder Silmeria was having a hard time staying away from his neck.

His eyes did another quick once over of her body, noting the way her nipples had stiffened against the fabric of her dress. Brahms almost smiled then, taking it as a sign that yes, his bride had enjoyed her first feeding after all. The only thing that could make the occasion even more memorable would be if they were to make love. But Brahms had a feeling that for all of Silmeria's arousal, she was not yet ready for that kind of outlet to channel that pleasure into.

Somehow, Brahms regain his ability to speak. His voice came out hoarse as he questioned her softly. "How do you feel?"

A quick blinking of Silmeria's eyes, the girl still looking so dazed. "I.....I..."

Brahms wasn't sure what he expected. It had been ages since he had last fed someone personally. Silmeria herself looked overwhelmed, expression startled as she glanced once more at his neck. Her tongue came out, licking over her bloody lips. She seemed shocked by the taste, and quickly brought her hands to cover her face. A moan followed that covering, her shoulders starting to shake. It left him concern, Brahms finding the strength to rise out of his seat. 

"Silmeria?"

She didn't try to avoid him when he put his arms around her. Silmeria actually let Brahms embrace her, leaning her body against his as she shook. Even in his concern for her, he savored the feel of his unresisting bride, Brahms letting his fingers tangle in the end of her blonde hair. She continued to shake, and it was then he realized she was CRYING. 

"Silmeria..." He started to make a soothing sound, but she began to speak.

"I didn't think it would feel so good." She whispered from behind her hands. "Didn't think blood would taste like that..." He said nothing, not even asking how she could not have some notion, after the way she had hungered after any blood spilt around her. "Why was it so good...why is everything about this so damn good?!" Silmeria continued to speak, but didn't appear to be waiting for answers to those questions. "No wonder you...we vampires are so dangerous." She concluded. "It's impossible to resist such pleasure."

"Not impossible, just difficult." Brahms told her. She shifted in his arm, lowering her hands so that Silmeria could peer up nervously at him. He noted with some pleasure that the color was returning to her face, Silmeria no longer so pale. "You will have to learn, to master over your darker impulses. It will take time, but you will overcome them. You won't be ruled by the blood, by your hunger for it."

"Until that time I am a danger, aren't I?" Silmeria asked.

"A danger only if you feed on mortals." Brahms corrected. "Until that time, it will be best if I see to your feedings."

She made a face then, showing she wasn't entirely pleased with that thought. "Somehow that might be more dangerous....."

"Why?" He asked, then challenged her. "Because of the intimacy it gives us? If anything, it's because of that intimacy that I should be the one to continue to feed you. It would be intolerable to see my bride seek sustenance from another vampire."

Naturally she chose to ignore the feelings he revealed to her, instead asking him a different question. "Your bride...you keeping calling me that. It gives me the feeling it means more than what it does to the humans....as though it inspires a closer bond than that of husband and wife."

"It does." Brahms was pleased by her observation. "You are my everything now. You've been mine since I turned you....no....you've been mine since I first held your life in my hand and let you go."

"I don't belong to you." Now she was angry, Silmeria trying to pull out of his embrace.

"Don't you?" Brahms tightened his hold on her, possessive and showing she still lacked the strength to get away from him.

"I don't!" Silmeria insisted.

"Even if we didn't have that connection, you'd still be mine. I am ruler of the vampires....a people you are now a part of." Brahms smirked. "Every last one of them owes their allegiance, their very existence to me."

"What do you mean by that? Their existence?" Silmeria demanded. "Surely you couldn't have turned every vampire!!"

"I may not personally have been the one to deliver the bite that changed them....but as you will soon see, I did have a hand in their fate." Brahms told her, watching her eyes widen. "Search your memories Silmeria. Try to make sense of the things my blood has told you."

"I..." She hesitated, and shook her head. "I can't...."

"You can't or you won't?" Brahms asked, the abruptly let her go. "No matter. The memories will come. Either you embrace them willingly, or they will overtake you in your dreams. You cannot avoid them, any more than you could avoid ME."

Silmeria was unsettled by that, stepping back from him. Her arms were hugging around her chest, her eyes wide as she stared at him. He hadn't said that to scare her. Brahms was simply speaking unavoidable fact. His blood was in Silmeria now. The memories would come. How she dealt with the onslaught of them would be up to her. Would Silmeria continue to deny the truth, to hide from the fact that Odin was not the hero she imagined him to be? Brahms did not know. She might even disappoint him with her reactions to what she learned. But the knowledge would be shared, the truth out there, casting doubt every time she thought of Odin and the things that he did. It would be like an infection, worming it's way into everything. The truth wouldn't care about sparing Silmeria, it wouldn't try to hold together her weakening perceptions of Odin. It would simply come to her, and there was nothing Silmeria could do now to stop it.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	30. Thirty

Much of her day had been spent with the sorceress, Lenneth getting to know Mystina just a little better. Mystina had made an effort to be nice to the Valkyrie, all smiles and friendly talk that could not quite hide the sly, calculating look in the sorceress' eyes. Lenneth was sure Mystina was up to something, that the sorceress had ulterior motives that extended beyond earning Lenneth's forgiveness.

That suited Lenneth just fine. After all, she too had her own motives for cultivating a friendship with the sorceress. She wanted knowledge almost as badly as Mystina did, though their interest was in two opposing directions. Mystina was eager to learn about the heavens, to learn about divinity. She wanted to recreate it, to learn the key to making one immortal.

Lenneth did not think she could help Mystina out with that, regardless of what she knew and did not know about the subject. But Lenneth pretended to indulge her, going so far as to allow Mystina to take a sample of hair from her head. She thought it harmless, Lenneth assuming Mystina would in no way be able to discover the key to immortality through a single strand of her hair.

They had talked about a great many things, topics ranging from the upcoming wedding, to the alliance forged between Asgard and Nifleheim. Lenneth had been especially interested in that, hoping to steer the topic in a way that would reveal something she could use against the Goddess Hel. Unfortunately for Lenneth, Mystina either did not know anything valuable, or was too good at guarding her words. Lenneth had yet to decide which one it was, and was more than a little put out to have wasted a day without learning anything of value.

Lenneth supposed though it was better than doing nothing, or wandering aimlessly about the castle. She had NOTHING to do with her time, and no real friends to wile away the hours with. Nor had she wanted to return to her temporary quarters, especially with the memories still so prevalent of the mishap that had occurred between Lenneth and her betrothed.

It had been a welcome relief when Mystina had suggested they go into the city. Lenneth had all but jumped at the chance, all eager smiles as she agreed to visit the small laboratory Mystina kept inside a private house located a quarter mile from the castle. There was a public laboratory inside the castle, in addition to the one inside Lezard's private workshop, but Mystina like so many of the other mages preferred keeping to herself when it came to her work and research.

Lenneth had been very curious, carefully looking over the experiments that lay out in plain sight. There had been no bodies, but the Valkyrie wouldn't have been surprised if Mystina had another room with the more dangerous and depraved experiments hidden away. If such a room existed, Mystina made no mention of it. Instead the sorceress had been proud, near boasting as she showed off her work. Lenneth would even get to see the chamber that allowed Mystina to separate her soul from her body, the device that allowed the sorceress to astral project herself.

Mystina never allowed Lenneth a moment by herself in the laboratory. Even as she showed off, the soceress was careful, determined not to have any of her work stolen. Lenneth was inwardly disappointed, thinking there wasn't anything she could really use to make a case against Hel's planned betrayal. But she played at being polite, interested as Mystina set off to examine Lenneth's hair at length.

That strand of hair was currently in a rectangular glass case, floating in some kind of neon green liquid. Lenneth had not really understood the things Mystina said that single strand of hair could show her. What did a former Goddess know of DNA and molecular structures?

They would not return to the castle until well into evening. It was near the end of the day's dinner, and many of the nobles were still gathered inside the dining room. That included Lezard, the man rising to his feet, his expression displeased as he gazed at just who was besides Lenneth. Mystina took it all in good stride, cheerfully announcing their arrival with greetings for everyone present. 

That included Lezard, Mystina making a flippant comment that nearly drove the man to scowl. "Oh do wipe that sour look off your face lest you give yourself wrinkles before the wedding."

"I do not have wrinkles." Lezard grumbled in protest.

"You will if you keep worrying." Mystina shot back. She took her seat amidst her usual group of admirers, though the women were restraining themselves from making demands at the moment. They were too busy looking back and forth from their Lord and the sorceress, intent on every word exchanged.

Others had risen, the men and women paying their respects to the former Goddess as she made her way to the head of the table. Lezard had one last glare for Mystina, before he turned to look at Lenneth. His smile was strained, the tension in him apparent as he reached for Lenneth's hand. She tried not to stiffen in response, tried not to overreact to that simple touch of his.

"Lenneth..." Lezard bent, bringing her hand up so he could brush a kiss over her knuckles. "Your presence here is a welcome bit of light." 

"Thank you." Lenneth said, relieved when she could take back her hand. It had actually started to tremble in response to the kiss Lezard had given her, Lenneth hoping no one else had noticed that betraying reaction. 

"I understand you've been with Mystina for most of the day." A question was in Lezard's eyes, the man not sitting down until after Lenneth had taken her seat.

"Yes. She was very kind, very informative."

"Informative?!" Lezard exclaimed, and Mystina laughed.

"Relax Lezard. I told her nothing that would put you in a bad light. Lady Lenneth and I were merely having some girl talk, getting to know each other and what not."

Lezard didn't look pleased to hear that, his lips parting as though he would demand further explanations.

"It was really just things about the wedding." Lenneth quickly explained. A servant was bringing a plate to her, the day's dinner piled on it. "I've never been to a wedding before." She added, many of the women present reacting startled to that confession. "I was not sure what would happen, what would be expected of me."

"And Mystina filled you in?" Lezard asked. He didn't look like he trusted what the sorceress would have told his betrothed.

"Yes." Lenneth nodded. "The ceremony won't be as overwhelming as it could have been for me."

"Ah...of course. I should have prepared you myself." Lezard looked chagrined.

"You've been busy." Lenneth told him. 

"I still should have taken the time for you!" He protested. "I just hadn't realized that you have had no experience with that which the rest of us take for granted." He put a hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. "I won't make that same mistake again."

"There's no need." Mystina spoke up. "I can tell Lenneth whatever she needs to know."

"Somehow I don't trust your motives for doing that." Lezard grumbled.

Mystina fluttered her eyelashes, almost pouting at him. "Am I so untrustworthy that you have to fear my every word, every action?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Lezard demanded.

The pout deepened, Mystina trying for a wide eyed, innocent look. "So cruel. When I have done nothing but try to make myself be of service to you."

A man started coughing, caught in mid laugh as he choked on his food. Randolf immediately began pounding his fist on the man's back, trying to help him calm down. "Sorry." The man said, a sickly smile on his face. "I must have swallowed too much."

"I understand you left the castle today, my lady." Sameer smiled kindly at Lenneth, ignoring what had just happened. "Did you and Mystina take in the sights of our fair city?"

"No, not exactly." Lenneth admitted. "Mystina was kind enough to show me to her private laboratory." A low murmur of surprise from those present, leaving Lenneth to frown. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh no!" Sameer quickly assured her. "There is no fault with you."

And yet everyone was looking surprised, several people whispering to each other. Lezard took it upon himself to explain the reaction, frowning all the while. "It is rare for a mage to invite someone to their workshop. It's practically unheard of for Mystina to do it."

"Oh?"

Mystina smiled, still trying for that innocent look. "I saw no harm in showing the lady my work. It is good to have my efforts be appreciated for once."

Lezard fixed her with a steely eyed glare. "I don't believe you did this out of any desire to be appreciated."

"Oh my Lezard. Are you implying I had an ulterior motive for inviting Lenneth to my laboratory?"

"I know you must have." Lezard retorted. He did a quick glance at Lenneth before resuming his glaring at Mystina. "I'll have you remember what I told you. I will not allow you to do anything untoward towards Lenneth, research be damned."

"I did nothing without the lady's consent." Snapped Mystina. Lenneth saw that only made Lezard worried, the man's jaw clenching tighter.

"Lenneth, what did she do to you?" 

The demanding tone almost made her not want to answer. But her rebellious streak was squashed by the outright concern Lezard was showing her. "Nothing bad." Lenneth finally said. "She merely took a strand of my hair to study."

"So you can see Lezard, you are overreacting for nothing." Mystina's tone was insolent then.

"You go too far Mystina." grumbled Lezard. Lenneth saw the look Lezard gave Mystina. It spoke strongly of the words he would have with the sorceress, once they were free of an audience.

"That is nothing new." Muttered Randolf, quickly sipping at his drink. 

The mood at the table had turned uneasy, the people present picking nervously at their plates. Lezard could hardly relax besides her, Lenneth noting how tense he still was. She inwardly sighed, and forced herself to touch his hand. That touch drew his attention to her, the look in his eyes one of surprise. 

"I am fine." Lenneth assured him, her tone soft. "I would not allow Mystina, or anyone else to take advantage and hurt me."

"You can be used without realizing it." Lezard whispered back to her. That got Lenneth to abruptly pull her hand away, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Do you think me a child?" She demanded, voice still so soft that only Lezard could hear her. "That I am so naive as to not know when people are trying to use me?"

"No...I do not think of you as a child in anyway." Lezard quickly assured her. "But you are innocent in some respects, your time in the heavens surely have not prepared you for the likes of such as the sorceress."

"There is much I can admit to not knowing." Lenneth said. "But I need the chance to learn, even if that learning comes through experiencing betrayal."

"This is one betrayal you do not want nor need." Lezard warned. "You should stay away from Mystina. She does not have your best interests at heart."

"And you do?" challenged Lenneth. She tried not to feel sorry for him at the hurt look Lezard wore in response to her words.

"I know I've made a mess of things..." He began with a sigh. "But despite what has happened, I still do want what is best for you. I want to protect you, to guide you, to help you adapt to your new life and world. I cannot say the same for Mystina. Not knowing what I know."

"And that is what?" Lenneth asked, eyes intent on his. He opened and closed his mouth, as though debating what to say to her. "Lezard?" Again she reached to touch his hand, expression urgent. "I won't stay away from her if I don't have a real reason to."

"Now is not the time to speak of her threats." Lezard caught her hand before she could draw it away. "Lenneth...please...a moment of your time. Away from here, away from them."

"You want to speak to me alone?" Her heart slammed into her chest, a powerful surge of distress filling her. It was too soon, too soon to go anywhere with him. Too soon to go away from the safety of the others, too soon to endure another moment alone with him.

And yet she knew she had to master these reactions to him. She didn't have the luxury of time, Lenneth expecting to marry Lezard come tomorrow. She didn't have time to get over any silly worries and fears she had about being alone with him. And yet she wanted to put it off, to keep from being hurt again. It did not matter what Mystina's true motive was, not when Lenneth herself sought to use the sorceress to further her own ends.

But as much as she wanted to protect herself in avoiding Lezard, Lenneth knew she could not. She had a mission, self appointed though it was. She had to get close to him, had to foster a trust that would trick Lezard into revealing things, damning evidence of Hel's planned betrayal. She had to get close, risk herself and her heart in the process. It was the only way left to her, especially since it appeared Mystina did not know anything of value.

"All right." She said at last, bowing her head. "But only for a moment."

"Thank you." His eyes looked relived, Lezard rising from his seat. He was still holding onto her hand, drawing Lenneth up with him. The people at the table also rose, curious looks in their eyes as to what their Lord was doing. "If you will excuse us...I would have a moment with my betrothed."

"Stealing her away from us already?" Mystina's smile was a teasing one. "Could you not wait until after the wedding for that moment?"

"Do not begrudge him for the want to be with his lady." chastised Randolf. "Once we retire for the evening, he will not be allowed to see her until tomorrow's ceremony is under way."

"We will be gone only for a few moments." Lezard assured them. "There is some matters I would like to discuss with Lenneth..."

"Oh matters. Is that what you're calling it?" Louville's grin made Lenneth blush, the former Goddess trailing after Lezard as he led her past the table. 

"Louville, don't be rude!" admonished Sameer. Whatever Louville's retort to that was, it was lost, the dining room doors closing behind them. Lenneth continued to blush, wondering how much Louville's insinuation had to do with Lezard's drunken late night visit.

"Do they all know about what happened?" She asked, as Lezard led her towards an empty room. "About last night, and what nearly happened?"

He waited until he closed the doors before answering, Lezard saying. "Not really."

"Not really?" She frowned. "And that means what exactly?" 

"Louville was among the six present during last night's drinking. They all...encouraged me to go see you." Her expression was surely aghast, Lenneth staring at him in dismay. "Do not worry. They are of the utmost in discretion!"

"Louville's comment didn't seem very discrete to me!" Lenneth pointed out. 

"That was wrong of him. But he will not betray you or us. Frankly I'd be surprised if he could even remember half of what was said the night before, so heavy was his drink!"

"Somehow hearing that doesn't inspire much confidence." Lenneth muttered.

"I want to apologize again." Lezard said, seeming sincere in his regret. "I had no right to call on you the way I did. No right to try and force myself on you, to make demands of you." She said nothing to that, not even to voice agreement or chastise him. Lezard seemed to grow agitated in response, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. "Will you not say anything?"

"What is it you want me to say?" She asked. "I don't think I can forgive you. Not now, not yet."

"Then when?"

Lenneth gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders. "I do not know. What you did was extremely hurtful. It's not the kind of hurt that can be easily mended by words alone."

"Then what must I do to prove I am sorry?" Lezard asked. "Just say the word, and it will be done!"

"It's not that easy. You hurt me, trampled on my trust, took advantage of the weakness that has been forced upon me." Lenneth looked away. "If you hadn't passed out when you did..."

"We'd have been lovers." Lezard finished for her. His tone was hoarse, sounding like his voice was breaking. He was not as pleased by the thought of being her lover as Lenneth had expected, and that surprised her. Lenneth told him as much, Lezard surprising her yet again with the raw honestly of his words and expression. "There would be no joy after the act, not if my pleasure came at the expense of your feelings and trust."

"Do my feelings really matter to you that much?" Lenneth asked him.

"Of course they do!" He seemed insulted then. "Whatever I may have done, may have attempted to do, I've always valued you and your feelings. But I am just a man, prone to making mistakes..."

"Especially once you've had too much to drink." Lezard seemed to flush at that reminder.

"I never should have drank Randolf's brew." He muttered. "It made all my good sense be thrown to the wind."

"You weren't drunk when you tried to kiss me in your workshop." Lenneth reminded him.

"Ah...." He seemed uncomfortable then. "I wouldn't have taken it farther than a kiss."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Not before we were married at least." Lezard allowed himself a thin smile. "It wouldn't have been proper to try for anything more."

Lenneth couldn't help shivering. There in lie the horrible truth of the matter. He was restraining himself, only because they hadn't been officially wed. Once the ceremony happened, and Lenneth was bound to him as wife, Lezard would have his demands met. He would expect things of her, things she never wanted to give. Things she couldn't afford to do, not without damage being done to her heart by Odin's enchantment.

She felt ill in the moment, her skin's color leeching from her face. Lezard made a sound, a saying of her name, as he took a step towards her. She backed up, and nearly fell over, having hit what felt like a table. Lezard moved faster than she gave him credit for, his arms suddenly around her, keeping Lenneth upright. It was startling to suddenly be in his arms, to be embraced by him. Her eyes had widened, the sick feeling increasing as she stared into his amethyst colored eyes.

Lezard's face was so near to hers, Lenneth feared he would try to kiss her again. She immediately placed her hands on his shirt, pushing against his chest to get away. For one brief moment his arms tightened around her, and then Lezard was reluctantly letting go. Lenneth backed up again, finding a seat and promptly taking it. Lezard stood a few feet away, staring at her with a hurt look in his eyes.

"What have I done now?" He asked softly. 

"Nothing...nothing yet." She finally admitted. He arched a brow, then understanding dawned in his eyes.

"You fear the future." Lezard breathed out. Lenneth didn't react in anyway, just staring at him. "Am I that distasteful to you, that even the mere thought of what will happen after our wedding, has you bolting?"

"You are hardly distasteful to me!" Lenneth admitted, too pale to blush properly. "It might be easier if you were. But this enchantment I am under, it gives me no chance to make up my mind about you. It tries to force me to have feelings for you. This is not right, not right at all!" She brought a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes. "I should have been given a CHOICE." Lenneth finally said, eyes snapping open to fix him with the full extent of her misery. "I should have had that right. The right to decide about you for myself, to see if you were worthy of loving. Instead I am left with no chance, no defense against love, my heart's fate sealed the moment you kissed me awake!"

"Lenneth..."

"It's not any fault of your own..." She continued over him. "It was Odin's decision, my punishment for failing my King. I....perhaps it was wrong of me to fight the enchantment upon awakening. But I never imagined how painful it would be, to exist in this half state, fighting with the feelings his enchantment tries to manufacture within me!"

For some reason a look very much like guilt crossed Lezard's face. But Lenneth couldn't understand why he would wear such an expression. He wasn't the one who had done this to her, wasn't the one who had given her the love potion. The chance of her being here was just that...chance. A fluke of fate, where another Valkyrie might have been given to him had Lenneth never failed against Brahms.

And yet Lezard was visibly distressed, struggling with something. She couldn't guess what that something could be. Was he really that conflicted by her own torture? Why should he even care? They were all but strangers to one another. Her pain, her conflicting feelings should mean nothing to him ultimately.

"I know it is useless at this point to wish for things to be another way." Lenneth continued. 

"But you still wish for it anyway." Lezard said, and she nodded.

"I don't know if I could have loved you without the enchantment." Lenneth admitted. "You are hardly anything like a Valkyrie's ideal man."

He gave her a humorless smile. "I did not realize Valkyries had an ideal where men were concerned."

"Most Valkyrie do not want to retire." Lenneth told him. "Ever. But, if we must, there is a certain ideal we strive for. A certain kind of man we hope for." 

"And I suppose a magic using, worshipper of Hel is not that kind of man?"

"Not at all." Lenneth agreed. "Once I would have struck you down just for who you allied with. I wouldn't have wanted to take the chance to get to know you, to see the qualities you possess beyond your necromancy." She sighed. "It would not matter to me how kind you are, how friendly you've been to me, how patient. I think I would have hated you completely. I certainly would have not given you a chance to prove yourself to be something more than a worshipper of a cruel goddess." 

He was saying nothing to that, just giving Lenneth his complete attention. "Most of the Valkyrie would have been the same way. There is no doubt in my mind that if Odin intends to gift more of Hel's followers with Valkyries for brides, the love spell will have to be used."

"The hatred is that strong?"

"The distrust is." Lenneth corrected him. "This sudden alliance won't just put an end to centuries of animosity between our two kingdoms. The Valkyries won't forget so easily the wrongs committed by Hel and her followers. There is a long way to go before a true peace can be found....if that is even possible..." She studied him then, a curious look in her eyes. "You've evaded often the reasons behind Odin's agreement to this alliance with your Goddess. Will you continue to do so?"

"Hel and Odin both have things the other wants. It is a want that has driven them to ally."

"That is not a good enough answer for me." Lenneth told him. 

"It is the only one I can give you." Lezard said, to Lenneth's frustration. "I know it must not be satisfactory. You've had to give up so much, and you don't even understand why! But you have to, must believe that by being here, you are accomplishing something. Something that will benefit Odin in the long run."

"Benefit? How?"

"I cannot know for sure." Lezard shrugged. "But I believe your King will not squander this opportunity the alliance I have made for him, for them, gives him."

"If Odin is one thing, it is he is an opportunist when it comes to gaining an advantage." Lenneth agreed.

"He would not be the only one." 

"Who do you mean?" Lenneth asked, and Lezard grimaced.

"Mystina."

"Ah the sorceress..." Lenneth said. "Just what is it you were trying to tell me in the dining room? The things you did not want to say in front of everyone?"

"Mystina is...." He hesitated so long, Lenneth thought Lezard wasn't going to answer her. "She can be dangerous."

"Can be?"

"I've taken measure to neutralize her, but a tiger never really loses it's claws." Lezard said with a grimace. "She's a little too interested in you Lenneth. I'd advise against going anywhere with her..."

"As if she could hurt me." Lenneth scoffed.

"She could try!" Lezard's eyes blazed, the man taking a step towards Lenneth. "She is obsessed with you."

"With me?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"In what you are, what you were. She thinks to study you, as if she could somehow find some secret out."

"I already know all that." Lenneth interrupted him. "She wants to try and figure out how to replicate my immortality, maybe even see if a mortal can be made into a God."

"And she'll go to any length to get the answers to those questions of hers! Lenneth...this is serious. She wants to experiment on you...This goes beyond a mere study of your hair. If she can, she'll do unspeakable things, horrible things...."

"If she tries to hurt me, I will kill her." Lenneth told him, holding his gaze with her own. Her words had not appeased him, Lezard shaking his head.

"You may not get a chance to act against her before she has you strapped down to her table!" She started to protest, and Lezard held up his hand for silence. "Yes, you are a capable fighter, but she has magic on her side. You are mortal now, and all too susceptible to her tricks. Please....for your safety, and my peace of mind. Stay away from her!" 

Lenneth did not immediately promise him anything. Instead she arched an eyebrow, curious. "Are you not interested in those same things? Does not my former divinity make you curious?"

He was aghast. "I would never seek to experiment on you, to do the things Mystina would do in order to satisfy a curiosity she has no right to."

"Then you are infinitely wiser than the sorceress." Lenneth said.

"Of that there was never any doubt." Lezard told her.

In a different time, a different place Lenneth might have smiled in response. But her smiles were rarely given since her sister had been taken, and Lenneth herself punished so thoroughly for that failure. "Am I in danger from any others?"

He hesitated. "I would like to hope no others would dare attempt the lengths of depravity that Mystina would...."

"But you are unsure." Lenneth noted, then sighed. "None of this inspires confidence in me about the people who would follow Hel as their Goddess."

"We've never had access to a Valkyrie before. Let alone one that has been rendered mortal. But you are mine, under my protection. That alone would be enough for many to not dare make a move against you." A bland smile from him. "They simply fear what form my vengeance would take if my betrothed was harmed."

"Ah but that does not include Mystina." Lenneth tried not to be affected by his words, to not feel flattered that Lezard would become vengeful if something were to happen to her. Nor did she allow herself to feel anger at the thought of needing his, of needing ANY man's protection. In this world, or any other.

"Not Mystina." He agreed.

"She is either very brave, or very stupid." Lenneth announced. "I've not yet decided which."

"She is foolish. Reckless and ambitious, which is a bad combination." Lezard told her. "She wants so badly to earn Queen Hel's recognition. There is little she won't do towards that goal."

"If she is such a threat, you should neutralize her." Advised Lenneth.

"If I...dispose of Mystina, I would have to dispose of a third of the people in Flenceburg!" Lezard exclaimed. "There are more like her...there always will be more. People lusting for power, prestige, wealth and anything you can imagine. Queen Hel's rule is such, that it breeds malice and greed. People conspiring against one another, waiting for the chance to betray, to seize power from those who have it."

"It's not a very peaceful way to live." Lenneth shuddered. But she wasn't surprised. Hel thrived on adversity, on being a corrupting influence. She thrilled to making mortals corrupt, enjoying the sins they committed, and the price she exacted for their misdeeds. Setting up a whole system where those in power had to constantly watch their backs, to guard themselves against those who lusted zealously for their positions, was very much in fashion with the underworld's queen. Hel had always loved those that were ambitious, those that would damn themselves to realize their dark desires.

"No, it is not." Agreed Lezard, his voice and expression both tired. Lenneth gazed at him, realizing he was at the top of the world where Hel's power structure was concerned. That position was a precarious one at best, Lezard must have to constantly guard against people like Mystina who wanted to topple him from his perch.

"How do you stand it?" Lenneth asked at last. He did not pretend to misunderstand her, merely adjusting his glasses as he considered her question.

"I try to take it a day at a time. It's all I can do. With my position, there is no where else for me to go but down. And that is a plunge I will not go easily to." An odd twist of his lips, neither smirk nor smile. "But it is tiring to be constantly on guard. To always have to wonder just who will try to replace me next. Many are not like Mystina....they are not so vocal with their envy."

It still sounded like a terrible way to live to Lenneth. "Are you not sick of it all?"

"I am." His easy admission surprised her. "But what else can I do to change things?"

She really didn't know how to answer that question. "Do you have anyone you can truly trust? Or is even those friendships you share, simply lies?"

A shrug from him. "I cannot know what is in the true hearts of those I would call friend. Perhaps even they seek to usurp me from my seat." 

It was foreign concept not to be able to trust anyone. Lenneth had had her sisters, the other Valkyries, even the einherjar to place her trust in. But Lezard, he had no one. And that gave Lenneth an insight to him. It was no wonder he wasn't so quick with his feelings, so easy to feel something more for her than an attempt at friendship. He had probably never had a meaningful relationship with anyone, not even the Goddess he so worshipped.

Lezard had always been on guard, always watchful for the next betrayal. He probably never truly relaxed. Something inside Lenneth was stirring, a deep sympathy for him filling her. Along with guilt, Lenneth realizing that even she was someone he could not truly trust. Not when she plotted to betray him in order to find proof of Hel's deception to Odin.

It distressed her, because Lenneth was finding she wanted to be that safe heaven for Lezard. To be the one person he could let his guard down with. And yet she couldn't truly be that person, not with what she planned to do. Nor could she abandon her plan, even if her heart so enchanted by love, told her too. She was simply that determined to return to her old life, to become a Valkyrie once more. This time with Lezard was meant to be nothing but an unpleasant memory, one she thought she'd be able to bury once cured of Odin's love spell.

"You look troubled my lady." Lezard said. "Does it distress you so, my circumstance?"

"Yes." Admitted Lenneth with a nod. "I cannot imagine living a life so utterly devoid of trust."

"I suppose it is as foreign a concept as the thought of being able to truly trust someone is to me." Lezard told her. "Do not look so disheartened Lenneth. I am used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be!" She protested.

"It doesn't change the reality of my situation." He said. 

"It's no way to live." Lenneth shook her head no, frowning. 

"Maybe so. But I've little choice in the matter. To begin to trust now would ultimately be my downfall." He gave her a shrewd look. "You would do well to guard against trusting so easily yourself."

"Does that apply to you too?" Lenneth demanded, more than a little defensive in the moment.

"I would like it if you trusted me, but after what I've told you, I don't expect you to. Especially not to a man who can't afford to trust back." Lezard explained. "But know that above anyone else in Flenceburg, I alone have your best interests at heart."

"Because we are to be married?" 

He seemed to hesitate before answering. "Yes." 

She sighed. "That's not a good enough reason to give you my trust."

 

"Then...think of it this way. Your King, Odin. He entrusted your care to me. I would be a fool to neglect a gift from a God, even one I do not actively worship as my own."

She frowned at him. "I think I'll be more curse than blessing to you." 

"You are wrong about that." Lezard argued. But he wouldn't say why he was so certain about that. "You are a treasure, Lenneth. The greatest gift I have ever been given."

"Even more so than your kingdom and your wealth?" Lenneth asked, surprised at how much value he put on her. He nodded, allowing a small smile to cross his face. "I did not think a follower of Hel would find a Valkyrie all that valuable. Especially one who has a reputation for not wanting to be tied down by a woman." That last was said almost teasingly, Lezard turning flustered.

"I'm glad I never married. For it left me free for you." She tried not to be, but Lenneth grew flattered at those simple words.

"Maybe it's just the enchantment...or maybe you just have a way with words....But you certainly know how to flatter a woman."

"I'm not trying to be flattering in the moment." Lezard protested. "I am simply speaking the truth."

"And that might be the most flattering of all!" Lenneth pointed out. 

Lezard was still flustered, fingers fidgeting with his glasses. "The wedding is tomorrow. Are you truly prepared for it?"

"I am as ready as I will ever be." Lenneth sighed then. 

"It will be a busy day." Lezard warned her. "Even after the ceremony is completed, there will be expectations of us..."

"Yes. Everyone will want a moment of our time. It sounds utterly exhausting, the celebrating that will follow." She tried not to grimace, Lenneth not looking forward to the parties that would follow the ceremony.

"We mortals do like an excuse to party." Lezard told her with a smile. "And it has been too long since we've had a reason to celebrate."

"Just...just try not to celebrate too heavily." Lenneth advised him.

"I won't. I've learned my lesson where drink is concerned." He grimaced. "I will take care. You needn't fear another drunken repeat of last night."

That was only a small relief, for Lenneth was fearing their wedding night regardless of Lezard's state of mind. Her nerves only increased as the minutes sped by, Lenneth knowing the hour of their joining was getting closer and closer with every second they spent talking. Lenneth feared she'd be a bundle of nerves before tomorrow night came, and knew not how to distract herself.

"Lenneth...."

"The others will surely be curious about our long absence." She said abruptly, rising from her seat. "We should return to the dining room."

"Ah....of course." Lezard agreed, and offered her his arm. Lenneth hesitated a moment before taking it. Somehow she managed not to tremble or shy away from their close proximity to one another. It wasn't an impressive feat, but it was a small victory, Lenneth managing to school her reactions in response to his nearness. To any who looked at them, they would never be able to tell Lenneth was affected by her nearness to Lezard. 

They walked in relative silence to the dining room. But they did not go immediately inside, Lezard pausing them. "Lenneth...for what it is worth. I am sorry."

"Sorry?"

"For everything." His brow furrowed, his eyes looking troubled. "It is not an easy situation I've put you in. I know you could have done better with a match in another kingdom....but I..."

He had gone silent, Lenneth looking at him quizzically. "Oh Lezard. Do not blame yourself for this. It was not you who made the decision I come here. You have nothing to apologize for in regard to my King's decree." But he didn't look relieved by her words. If anything Lezard appeared more guilty and frustrated. Lenneth couldn't imagine what was troubling him.

"Lenneth I...."

Suddenly the doors opened, servants hurrying past them on errands. The loud voices of the diners carried out into the hall, Lezard grimacing as he abruptly stopped what he had been trying to say. Lenneth gave him one last look, before glancing into the dining room. It appeared everyone was looking at them, all smiles and curiosity a they waited for their Lord and lady to rejoin them at the table.

Lezard would sigh, and guide Lenneth into the room. He would make no further effort to continue the self blame he had been exhibiting just outside the room's doors. Lenneth hoped that meant he was relieved of any guilt he felt he played in her arrival in Flenceburg. She couldn't imagine why he would feel the need to blame himself, not when any Valkyrie could have come to him. It was just Lenneth's own misfortune that had brought her here, the Valkyrie punished by her King for the failure to save her sister.

Lenneth tried not to think about Silmeria, not wanting to go into a painful brooding about her sister's fate. She'd lose herself instead to talking with those seated near to her, occasionally sneaking side glances at Lezard. He still looked uneasy, expression troubled. But Lenneth couldn't understand why! Nor did she know how to alleviate him of his troubles, the Valkryie knowing she had concerns of her own. Ones that would plague her now, and well into the night. Try as she might, Lenneth had a feeling she would not be sleeping easy in the coming hours.

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To Be Continued...


	31. Thirty One

Lezard had barely been able to sleep the night leading into the day of his impending marriage to Lenneth. He had spent hours, tossing and turning, at times pacing the floor of his chambers. He had tried many things to calm himself down, Lezard reading a book, drinking cold tea, even messing around in his workshop. But he found his mind did not want to concentrate on the work at hand. All Lezard had really been able to think about was Lenneth, and the fact that they were to be married in just a few short hours.

He was excited but nervous, stomach tied in knots over what was about to happen. This marriage, this ceremony, would be the culmination of his bargain with Odin, Lezard at last gaining Lenneth for his own. There would be no going back, no reneging on the deal from either party. Lezard had often worried in the weeks he had spent waiting for Lenneth's arrival, worried about her reaction to him but also over the chance that Odin would change his mind, and not give up his platinum haired Valkyrie.

Sometimes, Lezard still feared that Odin would snatch Lenneth away. One could never know with Gods, and the experiences Lezard had had with Queen Hel, showed that the deities took as often as they gave. 

But so far all signs pointed to the wedding happening. As long as Odin lived up to his part of the bargain, Lezard would do the same. Even now, dressed in his new suit, he kept Odin's pendant on him. He didn't dare risk misplacing it, Lezard knowing it was his only link to the ruler of the heavens. But he did not try to call on Odin, not even one time. This day would be special, a day free of harassment from either Hel or Odin. It was to be his one day where Lezard would not have to worry about either deity, the mage free of their plots and manipulations.

Unfortunately for him, Lezard could not rid himself of the nervous energy he was filled with. It kept him tense during breakfast, Lezard barely able to swallow down part of his meal. His unease was so apparent, that it drew the attention of the other men present at the breakfast. Some had been quick to tease him, Randolf wondering if the great bachelor that Lezard was, was getting cold feet.

Lezard had shot him a dirty look. Backing out of a marriage with Lenneth was the last thing Lezard wanted to do! But the teasing continued, the men not helping Lezard's nervous state. There had been no women present to run interference, not even Mystina's group had been present to provide a distraction. Breakfast had been men only, as per the traditions of the wedding day. Lenneth would be secloistered, surrounded only by the women who would help her to get ready for the wedding. Lezard could only hope the women weren't being as merciless with their teasing as Randolf's group had been with Lezard.

There had been much to do before the noon time wedding. Rituals that had to be accomplished before the actual ceremony. Lezard and the men ended up in the castle bathhouse, the mage having to purify himself before the wedding. The water had been freezing, Lezard wondering if he would catch a chill and be too sick to do anything on his wedding night. Especially after soaking a near hour in the cold water.

The hot heat that followed the cold, purifying waters was a welcome relief. Lezard thought he'd melt as he went from one extreme temperature to the next. The water chased away the chill he felt, and did much to abolish the chattering of his teeth. He'd have to wait until he had thoroughly dried before Lezard could put on his wedding clothes. And all the while, his nervous, nauseous feeling continued.

It was customary to drink, and drink heavily on the day of one's marriage. But Lezard was having none of it, remembering well how upset Lenneth had been the last time he came to her drunk. It disappointed the men, many of them not holding back in the amount that THEY were drinking. A drink might have made Lezard feel better, but ultimately it would have been a disaster. And all because alcohol and an empty stomach did not mix well together.

He fidgeted as if he was drunk, Lezard unable to remain still. He constantly walked about the room, ignoring the laugher and jokes of his companions. Sometimes he'd pause in front of a mirror, looking himself over critically. He wasn't used to wearing such a light colored gray, and worried it had been a mistake in choice. He felt much better about the under shirt, it's black sleeves and lacy cravat caressing over his skin. The gold clip contained a large amethyst, which only made his eyes blaze all the brighter.

He'd play with his sleeves, and run his hands down his jacket, wondering why time was going by so slowly. He could hear the loud murmur of voices that the door could not quite muffle. Many of the guests were already in attendance, crowded inside the nearby ball room. It was the only room large enough to hold as many people as had been invited, and even then it was a tight fit.

"You need to calm down." Sameer had entered the room, having skipped over the bathhouse ritual. 

"I am calm." Lezard insisted.

Sameer gave him a disbelieving look. "You're as white as sheet. Don't tell me you aren't a mess!"

"Ah Sameer..." Randolf looped an arm across the smaller man's shoulders. "Lezard is just getting nervous. It's his first time getting married. Even to a beauty like Lady Lenneth, a man must be loathe to give up his freedom!"

"I'm not like you." Lezard said stiffly. "My first time getting married will be my last."

"Ah...of course. I did not mean to imply otherwise." Randolf quickly apologized. "It's just you are so inexperienced with this kind of commitment...."

"Randolf is right about that." Agreed Sameer. "This is a first for you. The first of many new and hopefully happy experiences." Lezard said nothing to this, knowing the happy experiences were largely dependent on how receptive his bride, Lenneth was to him.

He could have gone off on spree of depressing thoughts, ones that would have only made him feel worse, and add to his tension. But fortunately for Lezard, he had Randolf and Sameer to distract him from that kind of thinking. 

"Just think on how satisfying this union will be." Sameer suggested. "How good it will feel to have a partner that is both friend and lover."

"We're a long way from being either one of those things I'm afraid." Sighed Lezard.

"It may be a long journey for you both, but the pay off will ultimate exceed your expectations." Sameer said wisely.

"Does Lezard even have time for a long journey?" wondered Randolf out loud. "I mean....you know what our Queen is plotting. How impatient she is for..."

"Let us not talk about such things on this special day!" interrupted Sameer. "Our Lord has enough of his mind, without having to worry about our Queen's plots. Or the effect her schemes will have on his newly forming relationship with Lady Lenneth."

"I'm just trying to point out he may not have much time. He'll have to strike hard and fast, to win her heart."

"Randolf, winning love is a lot different from winning a battle." Sameer said.

"Not different enough in my opinion." Randolf's comment earned Sameer's frown, the man looking exasperated.

"Lezard, don't listen to this fool."

"Hey!" protested the blonde man. 

Sameer ignored him. "You need to find a balance, a pace that is neither too fast, nor too slow. It's unfortunate, but one thing Randolf IS right about, is the time limit our Queen puts on your relationship with Lady Lenneth. You have only until the alliance falls apart, Hels' betrayal of Odin made known to all. If she does not love you before that happens, then I fear she will NEVER."

"Do you think I do not know that?!" Lezard was agitated, some of his anguish slipping into his voice. "And even if she learns to love me, once the betrayal happens, even love might not be enough to get Lenneth to forgive me for my role in it."

"She might try to gut you." Mused Randolf. "Heck, she might still try even if she has feelings for you."

Lezard sighed, his expression sour. But it was Sameer who spoke. "Love is a fickle, funny thing. We cannot predict for sure what the lady will do, how she will react upon learning of your deceptions."

"She won't be happy." Insisted Lezard. "If she learns..."

"Then we keep it from her." Randolf said, eyes bright with determination.

"Keep it from her how?" Lezard demanded plaintively. "She's not an idiot. She will figure it out!"

"But we can delay that discovery. Buy you even just a little more time to be happy with her." Randolf decided. "Hel doesn't plan to actively engage her troops in fighting just yet. Her plague will come first. It is a sickness that will for all intents and purposes be of natural causes...For the time it runs rampant, killing off many of Odin's followers, many will not be the wiser to it's true origins. Lenneth included."

To Lezard it felt like each day, things only grew more complicated. And all because of the deceptions he practiced. And not just to Lenneth, but to everyone around him. As for as these men were concerned, Lezard was still on their side. That he was their capable and willing leader, ready to charge off into battle in the name of their queen. Lenneth would believe similar, and Lezard did not think he could dare risk telling her the truth. 

How Odin must be laughing at him. How foolish Lezard must seem, risking everything for a woman who would end up hating him. A woman who would never know Lezard's true role in the protection of her heavenly home. Lezard sighed, suddenly thinking a drink was indeed a good idea, though he managed not to reach for a cup.

"It's something to think about at least." Randolf answered, misinterpreting Lezard's sigh. Lezard just continued to wear his depressed expression, leaving Sameer and Randolf to shift uncomfortable. "Hey now!" Randolf grinned. "I know what will put the smile back on your face!" 

"Do you now?" Lezard asked, wary and eyeing the blonde man suspiciously.

"Yes, of course. Something that is guaranteed to cheer you right up." Randolf's grin grew bigger. "What say we go check on the bridal party? I'm sure the sight of Lady Lenneth in her new gown will help do away with any fears you have and last minute nerves!"

Lezard could admit to himself he was very much tempted by Randolf's suggestion. It would do him good to see Lenneth, to be reminded of the reason he was putting everything he valued on the line for. Even if it was only for a few seconds, seeing Lenneth would be a calming influence on him.

"No, no! He mustn't!" Sameer protested. "Tradition is strict. The bride and groom must be secloistered from each other, until the ceremony is underway. To do otherwise is to invite misfortune onto the marriage!"

"Do you really believe in that old wives' tale?" demanded Randolf.

"Yes!" snapped Sameer. "Lord Lezard, do not risk it. Not when this marriage is already troubled by so much."

Lezard sighed, knowing Sameer was right. His marriage had enough plaguing it, without him openly inviting misfortune to it. "I can wait to see her." He said out loud, Sameer visibly relieved while Randolf was disappointed. "It's only a little longer until the wedding..." 

"Hmph. You may not be able to see the lady, but there's nothing stopping me!" decided Randolf. He was already heading for the door.

"Randolf wait!"

"Do not worry so much Lezard. I'm only going to find out if they are ready for the ceremony to begin." Another grin from the blonde man. "The sooner we can start, the better you'll feel!"

"It might be a good idea to start the ceremony sooner rather than later." Sameer said, then took Lezard by the arm. Lezard was still glaring at the door Randolf had left through, hardly paying attention as the other man guided him over to a corner table. There was a long, rectangular case laid out on it's top. It was made of polished wood, the dark mahogany inlaid with gold fastenings. The inside of the case was lined with a blood red velvet, in which a fashionable dagger lay on top it.

The dagger was more ornamental than was practical, the type used only in important rituals. Sameer lifted up the case to Lezard, allowing the mage to remove the dagger from it. Lezard stared down at the clean blade, seeing his face reflected in the shiny metal. The dagger was a good weight, it's blade sharp enough to split skin. 

"There now." Sameer said, as Lezard put the dagger in a leather sheathe that hung from the side of his waist. "You have everything you need for the ceremony."

"Everything except the cure to what ails me." Lezard grumbled.

"You may find some of your nerves appeased, once you have your bride standing next you." smiled Sameer.

For one brief moment, Lezard said nothing. And then his voice lowered, the mage staring at Sameer. "Can I really do this?" He asked him. "Can I really force her into a marriage based on so many lies?!"

Sameer looked startled. "But if she knew the truth....she would NEVER marry you."  
Lezard lowered his gaze, wondering about that. The real truth of what he was doing was nowhere as horrible as Sameer and Randolf believed. But it wasn't a truth that painted Lezard in the best light, the mage motivated to help Asgard only because he had demanded a reward from Odin. Lenneth was that reward. Lezard was positive Lenneth wouldn't like knowing the truth that the fate that had brought her to Asgard, had been premeditated. That Lezard had played an active role in her banishment from the heavens. He might not have known that Odin would deliver Lenneth under the pretense of punishing her, but the fact was the God probably never would have sent the Valkyrie away if not for Lezard brokering that deal.

It was cruel, and left Lenneth believing she had been punished for failing to rescue her sister. Lezard couldn't begin to imagine how much that had hurt Lenneth, to be suffering over Silmeria's loss, only to be delivered the news that she was being given away. Lezard had never put much thought into what sort of excuse Odin would come up with to retire the Valkyrie, but he was properly horrified at what the God had led Lenneth to believe.

Even worse, he felt like a heel for continuing the lie! But he felt locked into it, trapped. As though he had no other choice but to keep on letting Lenneth believe what she believed. It wasn't an easy thing to do though, Lezard slowly being consumed by the guilt he felt. A guilt that only increased whenever Lenneth lamented her fate, the Valkyrie upset that her choices had been taken from her. What's worse, the choices had been stolen not so much by her king, but by Lezard's hand!

Lezard had not put much thought into things before Lenneth's arrival. But now that she was here in his home, he couldn't STOP thinking. If possible, he'd worry himself into an endless grave! He didn't even know if he could be truly happy, so long as he was burden by lies and guilt.

"I....forgive me." Sameer said at last, misreading Lezard's silence as proof of his dissatisfaction with what Sameer had said.

"There's nothing I need to forgive you for." Lezard told him. "It's not you who have put me in this awkward position."

Sameer looked like he wanted to say more, but what could he? As far as the man was concerned, Lenneth was here through Hel's arrangement with Odin. Lenneth was a token of good faith, her marriage to Lezard meant to bind the two kingdoms into a long lasting alliance. To speak against what Hel had done, would be akin to blaspheming against the Goddess, and that was something Sameer would not do.

"She's ready!" Randolf had burst into the room, his voice booming loudly. His brown eyes twinkled, his smile big and infectious. "And Lady Lenneth looks absolutely beautiful. You are a lucky, lucky man Lezard."

Lezard smiled weakly. His guilt didn't make him feel lucky, Lezard feeling terrible for all he was doing to Lenneth. And yet it didn't stop him from walking across the room, the other men getting up as they realized the time of the ceremony was drawing closer. Randolf would sling an arm across Lezard's shoulder, hauling him towards the ball room with a laugh.

"There's no backing out of this now!" teased the blonde. "In just a few moments time, Lenneth will come here. And here she will pledge herself to you, become your wife for the rest of your lives."

Lezard tried not to shiver, thinking the rest of their lives was simply too short a time, especially for a woman who had once been an immortal Goddess. 

Sameer and the other men were following the pair, Randolf still pretending he was dragging Lezard forcibly into the ball room. The people gathered there laughed, amused by the sight of their Lord being manhandled by the blonde. 

In the middle rows, Lezard caught sight of Mystina and her entourage. The sorceress looked at him, narrowing her green eyes as she scowled. She surely blamed Lezard for her exclusion from Lenneth's wedding party, but he didn't care. He was just glad Lenneth had taken his warnings to heart, and chosen to freeze out Mystina.

He made a show of turning away from the sorceress, a blatant snub that was sure to have her scowling. Lezard would walk the rest of the way to the altar that had been set up in the front of the room. A large object was laying on top of the altar, covered by a dark sheet. It left the object a mystery as to what it was, though anyone with any experience with a wedding done in Hel's name, already knew. It was a sacrifice, a cage animal laying sedated under the sheet.

Lezard studied the room, noting how it had been transformed. Red and white garlands of flowers were winding around the pillars that supported the room's roof. Those same flowers were crowded on the sills of the windows, and red and white petals made a covering on the floor between seats. The petals formed a carpet on which the wedding party would walk, a fragrant sea of them.

Sunlight streamed in through the open windows, the light striking crystals on the altar behind Lezard. The crystals turned dazzling in response to the light, their colors bright and brilliant. The people present were just as colorful, all dressed in new clothing made just for this occasion. In the rear, near the eastern corner of the room, was a group of musicians. They were playing happy songs that could not drown out the conversation of the guests.

That song would change, the first notes of a more traditional song being played. It would gain the attention of the guests, the crowd quieting down as they turned expectantly in their seats. To the rear of the room, the large ornate doors were being pulled open. The first of the bridal party would appear, women in pretty gowns hurrying to take their seats.

It wouldn't be until Lenneth stood framed in the doorway, that the guests rose from their seats to honor her. Lezard hoped no one noticed the way he gasped, the sound soft but leaving his mouth hanging open in awe. Lenneth was beyond what he had expected, the white and silver gown only heightening her ethereal beauty. She had flowers in her hair, ones that were white with dark streaks of blue splattered on their center. She held no flowers, her hands hanging at her sides. 

Lenneth looked straight ahead, as though she did not see the crowd of people who were standing in awe of her beauty. Her shoulders were straight, her body stiff and then she began to move. Fluid grace accompanied her movements, any tension she might have felt no longer apparent. Her unbound hair flower like a cape behind her, Lenneth walking towards Lezard and the altar.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, staring almost mesmerized at the beauty coming towards him. He had always known she was lovely, but seeing her dressed in the gown made specifically for the ceremony that would bind them together? It made his heart ache, Lezard thinking he was both damned and blessed in the moment. Blessed to have her, but damned to have deceived her. 

Lenneth was too beautiful, his heart would surely break before this ceremony ended. And then she was standing before him, her eyes not betraying any uncertainties she might be feeling.

Somewhere behind him, a priestess appeared. She was dressed in red and black robes, and smiled constantly. She came to stand before the altar, slightly between Lezard and Lenneth. At a gesture from the priestess, they held hands, the woman beginning the ceremony as the guests retook their seats.

The first order of business was for the priestess to invoke the Gods. Being as this was Flenceburg, there was only one deity they had to pay homage to. Lezard saw how Lenneth flinched when the priestess began calling out Hel's name, pleading with the dark Goddess to bless the marriage, to see it be fruitful. Somewhere, the smell of brimstone and sulfur leaked into the room. The people present took it as a sign that Hel was indeed blessing their Lord's union to the Valkyrie, an excited murmur going through the crowd.

Lenneth actually tried to pull her hands away from Lezard when she scented the brimstone. Lezard gave a tight shake of his head no, eyes almost begging that she keep from making a scene. He tightened his grip on her hands, not letting Lenneth pull back from him. And all the while the priestess continued her speech, never suspecting the troubled moment between the couple she was marrying.

"And now our Goddess demands tribute as thanks for her favor!" The priestess said, whipping off the sheet to reveal the cage. Inside it was a young deer, a fawn taken from it's mother for this dark purpose. The priestess was already working open the cage, gesturing for Lezard to approach. He let go of Lenneth's hands, and withdrew the ornamental dagger from the sheathe on his side. 

The young deer let out a baleful sound, rousing itself enough from the drugging influence of the potion it had been given. Lezard approached, and did not hesitate, knowing it was better to end it's suffering quickly. He slit the fawn's throat, the priestess catching the blood in a ceramic bowl. 

Lezard returned to Lenneth's side. She wasn't overreacting to the sacrifice they had performed in order to pay tribute to Hel. It wasn't that different from any of the other Gods, many of the deities demanding a blood sacrifice when their names were invoked for a ceremony. Sometimes, depending on the God, it was possible to not kill the sacrifice. Instead the animal would become a sacred beast, living out it's life pampered for all times. But such a thing was not possible with the Goddess Hel, the Queen demanding her price in a creature's life's blood.

Young boys, dressed in robes that were nowhere as grand as the priestess, moved to carry the dead fawn and it's cage away. As per tradition, the deer's flesh would become part of the wedding feast so that no part of it went to waste. The blood gathered in the ceramic bowl was placed on the altar, the priestess standing before it once more. She would produce a candle, offering it to Lenneth. Lezard would use his magic to light the candle's flame, and once burning powder was mixed in with the blood, it was Lenneth who would set the sacrifice on fire.

As the blood and powder burned, the rings would then be exchanged. These rings were inscripted with runes on the gold inside, vows meant to tide a man and woman together. It wasn't just the rings, Lezard and Lenneth would repeat the vows the priestess urged them to say, the pair making promises to each other. Lezard noticed how badly Lenneth's hand shook as she began to slide the ring on his finger. It would be the same for him, Lezard trembling as he put the ring on Lenneth.

All smiles, the priestess held up their hands, showing off the rings on both their fingers. The gathered guests would erupt into cheers, rising to their feet in celebration. Flowers would be produced, each guest throwing them in the direction of Lezard and Lenneth, conveying their own blessings to them. The actual ceremony ended with the gathered blessing of the guests, each flower a wish for good fortune for the marriage.

The people in attendance would leave their seats, each eager to welcome their lord's new lady officially into the kingdom. While this would go on, the servants would work to remove some of the seating, transforming the room instead into a banquet hall capable of feeding so many. Lezard stood with Lenneth on his arm, smiling nervously as people congratulated and shook his hands. 

The servants began sweeping up the flowers, the floor littered with them. Amidst all the bright and pure colors, was a wilted rose, one whose petals had been blacked by some kind of tar. Lezard heard the gasps, saw the servants making holy signs to ward off evil spirits. None of the guests seemed to notice, but Lenneth did, reacting to the way Lezard stiffened with displeasure.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She whispered to him. 

He didn't answer immediately, locking eyes with the smirking sorceress. Mystina gave a mocking salute to Lezard, her insolent manner making him certain she was responsible for the blackened rose. 

"It seems not all our guests would wish us well on our future..." Lezard murmured back to Lenneth. She followed his gaze, then frowned to see the smirking woman. 

"Does she really need to be here then?" Lenneth wondered out loud.

"No, she does not." He raised his voice. "Randolf, where are you?"

"I am here!" The big, blonde man pushed his way through the crowd. "What would you have of me?"

"It seems Mystina is in need of an escort." 

"An escort?" Randolf frowned, not understanding. 

"Yes." Lezard smirked. "See to it that she's taken back to her room and kept there until morning."

Randolf didn't bother to ask questions, merely bowing with a smile. "It shall be done my Lord." He glanced at Lenneth. "Congratulations on your match, Lady Lenneth."

"Thank you Randolf." Lenneth said, polite in the moment. He would straighten from his bow, then disappear back into the crowd. Lezard would hide a smile at Mystina's outrage squeak, Randolf manhandling her much the way he had Lezard earlier. Lezard was glad to see Mystina leave, hoping that would put an end to any strife on this day. Or at least, most of the strife, Lezard glancing at Lenneth worriedly. He didn't know what would happen come evening. How Lenneth would react should he make a move on her. But he would try not to worry, and instead concentrate on the feasting and games that would soon take place. It was perhaps the only way he could keep his peace of mind, by allowing the day's festivities to distract him from his worries and problems.

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To Be Continued......


	32. Thirty Two

The rest of the night passed quickly, faster than Silmeria would have liked. She felt the coming of the sun, felt it's rising deep down inside her. It was as though she had an internal alarm, one alert to the sun's passage in the sky. The vampire mages continued to weave their magic, to crowd the sky with storm dark clouds. It did not matter that the sun could not be seen, she knew it was there. And with it's appearance, a lethargy overtook her.

Brahms would explain to her that it had to do with how young she was, how newly turned a vampire Silmeria was. He told her it would take time to build up a resistance to the lethargy that came with the sun's rising. It wouldn't be an instantaneous thing, it would take her several hundred years before she could stay up during the day. It bothered Silmeria, the girl not liking this perceived weakness. Nor was she reassured by Brahms' promise to watch over and protect her.

There was a lot about Brahms that did not reassure Silmeria. She was troubled by how pleasurable she had found the act of feeding, at how good his blood had tasted. It had aroused her, made her feel in a way she had had little experience with before. In fact, the only experience Silmeria had to compare feeding to, was that night on the back roads of Idavoll. The night when Brahms had kissed her for the first time.

It was disturbing to think feeding could be as arousing an experience as kissing had proven to be. But her body had reacted, her nipples stiffening, aching with arousal. Even between her legs, she had grown damp with desire, her body readying her for possession. She had desired Brahms then, needed him. But she hadn't acted on those desires, trying to tell herself it had nothing to do with an attraction between them, and everything to do with the fact that he had been her food.

But he was so much more than that! Even Silmeria could recognize that Brahms was no simple prey, but all predator. Yes, he had been her meal, but it had been of his own choosing. If Silmeria had wanted to take his blood by force, she would have never succeeded. He was simply that much more powerful than her. He might always be stronger, and all because he had been a vampire for far longer than Silmeria. 

But just how long he had existed, she did not know. And when she had asked him his age, Brahms had merely smiled. He told her to search the memories his blood had given her, his tone challenging. He knew as well as Silmeria did, that she was afraid of what she would discover. But what fear was stronger? That Brahms told the truth about Odin, or that he had lied?

Either way, Silmeria had hesitated, using up the last precious hours of the night in fighting against the memories. They wanted to come to her. They would appear in flashes, Silmeria seeing faces. Some she recognized, some she didn't. But she never lingered on the people and places that came to her, using her own stubborn will to deny the memories a chance of taking root.

It left her tired, all from battling a foe inside her. All too soon the sun had risen, leaving Silmeria to struggle to stay awake. She'd actually collapse, her crumpling form being caught in Brahms' strong arms. She'd be rendered too weak to do more than protest with words, Brahms lifting her up and carrying her over to the bed. She didn't want to sleep, and yet he laid her down, lingering over her form with an odd look in his eyes.

Brahms would advise her to give in, to take the sleep her body so desperately needed. She would be stubborn, trying to shake her head no, even as her eyes grew heavy. Silmeria could remember whispering something, a moan of sound. "Don't want to dream." She had told him. "Don't want to see...."

She thought she heard him answer. Thought Brahms had said something about it being too late for that now. But Silmeria had already closed her eyes, sleep overtaking her in what felt like an instant. Her body relaxed, her senses dulling. Nothing would disturb her sleep now. She would sleep until the sun went away, rising with the moon, alert and alive once more.

Now she had no choice but to dream, to visit the memories she had gained from Brahms blood. Silmeria was frightened as she slept, a thought making her wonder if it would have been wiser to examine his memories while awake. If only so she wouldn't be trapped in an endless nightmare, his memories perhaps proving more than she could bear.

Her body was relaxed, but Silmeria's mind was tense, her thoughts agitated. It did not make for good dreaming, Silmeria fighting, struggling against the fragments. They came faster to her, faces flashing by. She'd see the vampires she had met so recently, even ones she remembered killing during the never ending war. She'd see Valkyries, ones that had died at Brahms hands. And she would see the Gods, Odin appearing again and again.

But the brief flashes of him confused her. Odin appearing relaxed in many of them, actually smiling sometimes. But the smile didn't always reach his eyes, his looks cold and calculating one instant, amused the next. Silmeria didn't understand why Brahms would have memories of Odin looking that way, and all because the two men had limited contact with each other. If anything, Odin should have been incensed, or disdainful, ready to kill Brahms in an instant. 

As she puzzled over this, the flashes continued. Until she found herself in a bedroom. It was a lavishly appointed affair, the walls gleaming with gold and jewels. Silmeria reacted in an instant, realizing this was one of the many rooms inside castle Valhalla. But how would Brahms know what one of the bedrooms looked like? It made no sense to her, Silmeria frowning as she looked around.

She tried to cringe away when she saw the sunlight streaming in through the open window. But then she remembered this was only a dream, a memory. And memories of the sun could not harm her, no matter what Silmeria's reality actually was. She returned her gaze to the window, realizing that in this dream, she was disoriented. A disorientation born of the newly awakened. She wanted to go back to sleep, to burrow against her soft pillows.

But an insistent knock was on the door. Silmeria felt herself scowl, a voice coming out of her. It shocked her, all because the voice was male, a deep baritone that was very familiar ~Brahms.~ She thought to herself, hearing him bid the servant to enter.

It was an einherjar male who entered the room. He wore an apologetic look, bowing deeply to Silmeria. She was shocked, wondering why she sounded like Brahms, and why he would be in Valhalla. Why the einherjar wouldn't attack him on sight.

"Yes, what is it?" Silmeria heard Brahms ask. 

"Pardon me for such an early intrusion. But it is your father..."

"My father?" Instantly the body Silmeria inhabited, was alert. "What is it?" She could feel herself trying not to think the worst, but inwardly she was worried. This body she inhabited, loved the man he knew as his father. Loved and fear for him, the man's health poor.

"It's not good news..." The einherjar's expression turned even more downcast. "He bids you and your brother to come at once."

~Brother?!~ Silmeria was surprised, then wondered why. It stood to reason that once Brahms had had a family. She must be seeing him before he had become a vampire, before he had had to leave behind everything of his mortal life.

"I will be there at once." Brahms told the servant. The einherjar would nod, and leave. The door would close behind him, Brahms already shrugging out of the bed. There was no time to shower, the man hurrying to pull on his clothes. Silmeria tried not to look as the body she currently inhabited got dressed, trying to turn his gaze elsewhere. But it wasn't a memory she could control, Silmeria forced into seeing, doing, FEELING everything the body felt.

That included looking in a mirror, Silmeria reacting in shock at the sight that greeted her. It was Brahms and yet it wasn't, the man's skin not as dark as she remembered. His hair was a dark brown, long enough to reach down past his shoulder blades. It was an unruly mess, disheveled from bed. He ran all too human nails through his hair, not bothering with a brush. 

Silmeria was studying his face, noting his eyes were a vivid blue color rather than the crimson she was so familiar with. He had an aristocrat's nose, leaving Silmeria to realize that at some point in the future someone had broken Brahms nose. It had not healed right, changing the look of his face slightly. But he was still handsome, with a strong jaw, and sensual looking lips.

Finally Brahms was cursing, grabbing something off the dresser's top. It was some sort of tie, the man pulling his unruly mane into a pony tail. It seemed he had given up trying to tame his mane, too concerned with his father to really worry about his own appearance. 

He would move, leaving the room and stepping out into a near empty hall. There was no doubt about it to Silmeria. This WAS Valhalla! She still didn't understand what Brahms was doing here. He was someone of importance judging by the room he had been given. That ruled out his being an einherjar. There wasn't many options left to her, Silmeria wondering if at one point Brahms had somehow been an ally of Odin's.

It wasn't unheard of for those who sought alliances with Odin to be allowed to stay at castle Valhalla. Nor was it exactly common. Perhaps Brahms was an emissary of sorts, but then why was a sickly father with him? She just didn't understand, feeling impatient as Brahms walked them through the castle. There were einherjar moving about, dressed not for the battlefield, but as servants. These servants would bow as Brahms passed by, once again leaving Silmeria to wonder at his status.

They would go to a part of Valhalla Silmeria wasn't familiar with. She didn't often have reason to go to where so many of the Gods made their bedrooms, let alone the large apartment given to the King of the Gods. But that is where Brahms took her, several solemn face einherjar bowing to him. He ignored them all, but his anxiety mounted. Brahms could read the atmosphere, and knew his father was surely dying.

With that knowledge came sadness, Brahms already mourning the loss of his father though it had not yet come to pass. He'd stop in front of the large door made of carved ivory, his hand raising to knock. Almost before he released it, the door was opened, a visibly anxious woman standing there. Silmeria felt her third shock of the dream, an angry hiss curling through her.

She wasn't the ruined beauty Silmeria was familiar with. Both sides of her face were perfect. There was none of the numerous scars and burns that ruined one half her face and body. What had always hinted at beauty, now proved it, the Goddess stunning. 

"Brahms!" The Goddess had hair that flowed down past her hips, colored a purple so dark it was almost black. There was no diadem in place on her head, and the Goddess wasn't in her familiar dark colors. Instead she was garbed in a forest green colored gown, buttoned up to her neck, though there was a square cut out to reveal her cleavage. 

"Lady Hel." Brahms did a distracted bow, barely noticing her beauty the way Silmeria had. "How is he?"

Her face became even more pronounced with her distress, Hel's eyes lowering. "He..." She never got to finish what she was about to say, another man's voice calling out to Brahms.

"Come here...come join me and your brother, Brahms." That man's voice was weak, hoarse as though he had been coughing for a long time now. "I would speak with you both..."

"Yes, father. At once." Brahms said, as Hel stepped aside to allow him into the room. A man was standing with his back to Brahms, gazing at the man who lay in the bed. The standing man had silver colored hair, cut short on his neck. He would turn at Brahms' approach, and Silmeria had to fight to keep from gasping. 

~ODIN!~

Odin and Brahms exchanged nods, the Gods' eyes looking so serious, so downcast. Brahms would walk past him, and go to kneel down besides the man, his father's, bed.

"Father." Brahms' tone was reverent, he reached for the ailing man's hand. Silmeria looked at the sickly man in the bed, and saw not an old man weathered by age, but a God who should have been in his prime. He had brown hair as dark as Brahms, but his eyes reminded her of Odin's. So much that she turned to look back at the God, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"It is good of you to come so quickly..." The God in the bed was saying. "Both of you need to hear this..."

"Father, please...conserve your strength." Brahms urged him. Silmeria was frowning, not understanding how Brahms could call a God his father. She didn't want to believe what was right before her face, didn't want to think that Brahms might have a blood relation with this sickly God.

"Yes, father." Odin added his voice to Brahms' concern, Silmeria trying not to gasp. Odin and Brahms were brothers? She didn't know what was more shocking....that the two were related, or that Brahms was a God. "You must rest." Continued Odin. "You must not..."

"There's no more time!" The God in the bed grit out harshly. "Every second is precious...I cannot waste anymore. Sons...you must know. I will not recover from this."

"Father no!" protested Brahms, squeezing his hand. "There's still a chance....Let Eir try again. Surely she could..."

"The Goddess of Healing has done everything that she can for me." The God retorted. "There is no saving me. I will die. I will not even last out the day!"

Brahms' distress was apparent, his head bowing over the hand he held. Odin would move, coming around to the other side of the bed. He too would kneel, gripping his father's other hand. The God lay there, hands held by both of his sons, and the struggle was visibly on his face. He fought to hold on, to keep on living just for a few minutes more. It was a struggle that seemed to age him before their eyes, lines and cracks appearing on his skin.

"Before I die...there are things that must be said." The God spoke. From somewhere past Brahms' gaze, Silmeria could hear Hel weeping softly. But Brahms did not look at her, his attention all for his dying father. "Things that must be decided."

"The succession." Odin said, his voice sounding more eager than was proper. Brahms would raise his head, to glare at the silver haired God. But it was their father who spoke, showing he took no offense to what Odin had whispered. 

"Yes." Even that seemed to take more strength from the dying God. "The heavens needs a ruler, creation needs it's King." 

Brahms looked back to his father, though not before he saw the covetous gleam in Odin's eyes. "Whatever you decide, we will abide by." He said.

"Yes." Agreed Odin. "We will follow through on your last will." His tone was eager, almost smug. But then, Brahms thought Odin had a right to be. As the older brother, succession to the throne should naturally fall to him.

But their father had one last surprise for them, pulling on both their hands. He drew them over his chest, gazing up with glassy eyes. "I want you to share the throne."

"WHAT?!" Odin exclaimed, his voice an angry growl. "Share?!"

"Yes. Creation is big enough that it needs more than one guiding hand." The God smiled, though it was without humor. "Many of the realms are not yet fully formed...they will need the both of you working together, to finish them. To finish them and to guide the people there."

"Father, this is madness." Protested Odin. "We cannot rule together. Make one of us King, and the other his advisor. But do not try to force us to share the throne."

"It is my will!" Somehow the sickly God found the strength to bellow, the very heavens shaking with thunder from his anger. "You will rule together, or not at all!"

"Yes, father." Odin had turned meek, but it was all an act. Silmeria could see the anger in his eyes, the way he glared across the bed at his brother, Brahms.

"Give me your word Odin." The God was staring at his silver haired son now. "Promise me you will abide by my decision. Give me your unbreakable vow....the both of you."

"Of course father, I promise." Silmeria felt the ring of truth in Brahms' words, the power of that promise surging through him. Brahms would do as his father asked, would rule with his brother, Odin over Creation.

"Odin?" The God's voice rasped out, his tone urgent as he looked at his other son. "Your word?"

Odin was struggling not to scowl, his eyes sparking with anger. "I..." He hesitated, the God in the bed growing agitated. At last Odin bowed his head, muttering quickly. "I promise father." Silmeria felt Brahms' surprise, the man not thinking it would have been that easy. 

But for the God in the bed, it was, the man falling back against the pillows with a smile. "Rule well sons. May you prosper and live longer than I have." His hand was no longer gripping but growing limp in Brahms' grasp. 

"Father!" Brahms' alarm was further raised, the man clinging to the God's hand. "Father, don't go!" But it was too late, the man's eyes having lost the light of life to them. He was staring, not at his sons but up at the ceiling, face frozen in his last smile. Brahms blinked rapidly, and Silmeria realized he wasn't fighting the release of his tears. "Father!" bellowed Brahms, still clutching at his hand.

"Enough!" Odin growled, lurching away from the bed as though he had been burnt by the hand he had held. "He's dead Brahms. Our father is dead. There is no need to put on an act anymore."

"An act?" Brahms was not so far gone to grief, that he couldn't react to Odin's words. "Whatever do you mean brother?" Silmeria felt how puzzled he was.

"You know what I mean!" Odin pointed an accusatory finger at Brahms. "You've been playing him like a fool, pretending to be the good son. The caring son. When really? You were just greedy for MY inheritance."

Brahms' jaw dropped, and then he snarled. "You damn, bloody fool. This has nothing to do with the throne. Our father is dead. Don't you..."

"It has EVERYTHING to do with the throne!" Odin shouted. "I've waited my whole existence for this moment, for this day! I've spent centuries being groomed for this position, waiting for my chance to take my birthright!"

"I care nothing about your birthright!" Brahms snapped back. 

"You wouldn't say that if the positions were reversed!" Odin snarled. "How would you feel then, if the position that should have been yours was taken from you? Given away because your worthless little brother played the caring son in the last moments of your father's death?!"

"WORTHLESS?!" growled Brahms, getting up off his knees. Silmeria felt his anger, felt his hands clenching into fists. Violence was close to erupting, Brahms wanting to attack his brother. "I have never played at anything. I LOVED our father!"

"Stop this!" Hel shouted, her voice a sudden reminder that they were not alone in the room. The two men did not look at the goddess, continuing to glare at each other. "Now is not the time! Your father is dead! Our KING is dead. We should be making preparations, getting him ready for his burial."

"Nothing is more important than who sits on the throne." Odin told her, glaring at Brahms. 

"The issue has already been decided." Hel told them. "We all heard your father's last words. He wants the both of you to rule."

"Come now Hel. You can see the impracticality of that decision!! There's no way we can rule, even if I was willing to share my birthright with him." Sneered Odin.

"You will share it all the same. You gave your unbreakable vow to your father. The both of you did!" Hel pointed out. "To go against it is to invite disaster upon yourselves." To Silmeria, it looked like Odin was willing to take the risk, the God still glowering angrily. "Odin please. Do not dishonor yourself, or your father. Do as he decreed."

A change came over Odin, one Brahms did not trust. "As always Hel, you are the voice of reason." He smiled then, but the expression was tight. "I will abide by father's last wish." 

"As will I." Brahms said. Silmeria got the sense that Brahms did not care about ruling. He just wanted to do what his father had asked of him. That it annoyed his brother, Odin, was simply an added bonus.

Hel was relieved. "I know this incident was born merely from the grief of your loss. I will put aside what I have witnessed. No one need know you two almost came to blows."

Odin smiled his gratitude at the Goddess. He'd actually go so far as to bow to her, before leaving the room. Brahms would keep a tense watch on the silver haired God, waiting until he was gone before collapsing besides the bed. His grief had hit him strong, and he did not look up as the Goddess approached him.

"It's all right..." She whispered soothingly, placing a hand on Brahms' back. Silmeria felt uneasy to be touched by the dark Goddess, but Brahms hardly reacted. Not even when Hel kneeled down besides him, trying to wrap her arms around Brahms' massive frame. "I know it doesn't seem that way, but someday the pain will lessen....you will heal from your loss...."

"Sound words." Brahms murmured, not even looking at the Goddess. "They comfort me that an end to the pain will come."

"But not fast enough for you liking?" She asked.

"Tomorrow wouldn't be fast enough." Brahms said. "I wish I could be like Odin. Wish I could be so unfeeling."

"He feels." Insisted Hel. "He just channels his grief into an irrational rage. But he is hurting same as you."

Silmeria felt the strong doubt Brahms had over that. "Thank you for your help with him." Brahms said out loud. "It would not have made me feel good to beat my brother on the day of our father's death."

"I will always be by your side, always ready, always willing to lend you aid. No matter the problem, my love." Silmeria's breath hissed out of her at the last, Brahms turning to look at the sad smile on Hel's face. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with devotion as she moved to caress the back of her fingers against his cheek. Brahms held himself stiff for that touch, feeling frustrated that he could not return Hel's affection.

"I don't deserve you." He told her, and pain colored her expression. Hel knew as well as Brahms did, that he did not return her love. And yet the Goddess was content to take what she could from him, continuing to stroke him with her fingers. She was careful with the engagement ring she wore, keeping it from scratching his cheek with it's rough diamond. A diamond Brahms himself had given her, the two deities being promised to each other through an arranged marriage.

"You have me all the same." Hel said. Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect on Brahms. He turned away, but not before he saw how hurt she was by him.

"Leave me." He ordered in a gruff tone of voice. "I wish to have a few minutes more with my father."

"All right." Silmeria heard the rustle of her skirts, the Goddess rising to her feet. There would be no more talking, the Goddess simply going. Brahms would continue to kneel by the bed, actually taking hold of his dead father's hand once more. And with it he would cry, letting out all the grief that he felt. It was such a strong, profound emotion that even Silmeria was moved to tears.

Her vision blurred, and she realized Brahms was crying again. His tears seem to affect the memory, the room starting to fall apart, the colors melting into flowing streams. They would reform into another vision, Silmeria seeing it was night time now. But even in the dark, there was no mistaking the beauty of the land. It was still the shining realm, the heavens known as Asgard. But they were at one of it's borders, the bridge Bifrost that connected Asgard to the land below, that of Midgard.

Even at night, the colors of Bifrost's rainbow bridge sparked iridescently. It was a stark contrast to the people gathered here, their expressions as gloomy as their clothing. They were all garbed in black, suitable clothing for a funeral. There was no need for torches, the rainbow bridge's colors gleamed bright enough for them to see.

Silmeria was once again inside of Brahms, looking out through his eyes. Feeling what he felt, hearing his thoughts. He had not recovered from his grief, sadness lining his every thought. Even the way he moved showed he was in mourning, his head bowed low, his shoulders hunched. Besides him was his fiancee, Hel resting a hand on his arm. She was as beautiful as ever, even dressed in stark black. And yet he was unaffected by her beauty, finding there was little about her that could actually touch his heart.

Other Gods were present, some of them openly weeping. It had been a shock to all of them that their King had died. Gods were supposed to be eternal. There was little if anything that could truly do them in, the most dangerous being another God. But their King had had no enemies, had had no equal. It just didn't make sense how he could have died, wasting away as though he had been mortal.

These thoughts troubled Brahms, the man wanting to know, to understand why this had happened. But the Goddess of Healing could find no known cause, no explanation for what had happened to their King. It was a mystery, one that had frustrated Eir, and prevented the Goddess from coming up with a proper cure. It was that same mystery that had unease spreading throughout the other Gods, making them wonder if and who would be the next to succumb.

It was up to Brahms and Odin to reassure them. A difficult task, given the fear and paranoia that was spreading among the divine. It was made even worse by the fact that neither man's heart was really in it, each dealing with their own problems. For Brahms, it was his grief over the loss of his father. While Odin continued with his anger, raging over the unfairness of the promises their father extracted from the two brothers.

Brahms and Odin had yet to announce their father's decision. There simply was no rush to ascend to the throne, everyone needing to grieve. As it stood, only three people knew the truth behind the King's last words. The brothers, and the Goddess Hel.

But soon the truth would come out. Creation needed to continue, their father's life work needed to be completed. The worlds needed to be formed, and filled with new races and people. It would be a lot of hard work, and Brahms was actually looking forward to it, if only for the distraction it would offer him from his grief.

The einherjar were preparing a funeral barge, the dead King's body placed in the center of it. Under Bifrost's bridge, ran a strain of the river Iving, the water that separated Asgard from the realm of Jotunheim. It was on this water, that the funeral barge would be placed. But before that, each God and Goddess would come to pay their last respects to the King.

Brahms and Odin were the first to approach, walking together to say their final farewells. It was a symbol that they approached together, neither one being more favored over the other. Brahms was sure the people gathered here noticed, and they would surely speculate on what it all meant. But he didn't care, bowing his head as he laid a pouch of silver coins in his father's hands. Odin would produce a token of his own, laying the strong smell satchel of incense by their father's head.

For a long moment they just stood their, heads bowed as they prayed. Somewhere behind them, a voice started singing, the song melancholy sadness. The song would continue, even after Odin and Brahms stepped away from the barge. Hel and the Goddess Freya would be next to approach. Hel was once again weeping, a silk handkerchief in her hands as she gazed down at the King.

It would take some time for all the Gods and Goddesses to take their turns by the barge. But at last it would be done, einherjar lifting the barge, walking into the waters Iving with it. They would get soaked up to their waist, and then the river would catch hold of the barge, carrying it away. The einherjar would hurry back to dry land, and others would be waiting, flaming arrows being put against their bows' strings. 

The sad song continued, the flaming arrows taking to the air. Their aim was true, striking the barge, setting it, the dead King, and the offerings on fire. There was few people who were not weeping by this point, but somehow Odin managed to keep his own eyes dry. Brahms did not speak one word to his brother, merely offering his arm to Hel, before making the journey back to the castle.

A blink of Brahms' eyes, and suddenly Silmeria would be back inside Valhalla. The dining hall was nearly empty, a great feast spread out before her. Across from Brahms, sat Odin, the God seeming in a jovial mood as he drank from a bejeweled goblet. Brahms' own goblet was empty, but the golden haired Freya was present, hurrying to refill it from a new pitcher of mead she had just fetched.

Examining Brahms thoughts, Silmeria learned the two brothers had spent most of the evening discussing their ascent to the throne in the coming days. Though discuss might be too mild a word for the arguments that sometimes broke out. They had much to be concerned about, much to do following their ascension. For too long had Creation gone unguided, undesirable elements starting to crop up in the other realms. They needed to work together to stamp out those undesirables, work to get Creation back on track according to their father's vision.

Odin was eager to fill Midgard with a new kind of people, a new race he claimed to have discovered among his father's notes. The humans as Odin called them, would be a race whose life was a short existence. They alone would have the taint of mortality to them, living but the briefest of lives before dying. Brahms didn't see the point to a race that was so short lived, and had wondered what Odin would do with all the souls.

Odin had just smiled, being evasive about his plans for the humans' souls. That had annoyed Brahms, the man feeling if the two were going to rule, they should keep no secrets from one another. But no matter the argument, Odin kept quiet about that. He couldn't keep trying to pry out the details from his brother, there was other things they had to worry about. They'd spend a long night, yet accomplish little for all the talk they did.

By the time they called it a night, Brahms was very much tired. His vision actually seemed to be blurring from how badly he needed sleep. It was with an unsteady step that he stumbled towards his room. He'd write it off as simply too much to drink, never realizing a more sinister purpose could be behind his sudden turn in health. By the time morning came around, he felt sick, as though something had been draining him of his energy.

His movements continued to be sluggish, Brahms barely managing to get dressed. He'd go about his day as best he could, but it was difficult to keep alert. A few times during breakfast, he would have nodded off into his soup if not for Hel's none too subtle jab in his side with her elbow. Brahms did not fail to notice the way the other Gods looked at him, some going so far as to edge away from him. It would only get worse in the coming days, Brahms' health deteriorating, much like his father's had. 

It wasn't just his body that suffered. Sleep was a cursed affair, Brahms suffering troubling dreams, the likes of which he could not understand. They only grew worse with each night, Brahms dreaming of an unquenchable hunger, a thirst so desperate it left his mouth dry, his throat parched. No matter what he drank, what he ate, in his dreams and in reality, he continued to go unsatisfied. 

The ceremony for the brothers to ascend to the throne was delayed, put off by Brahms' weakened state. Odin seemed quite calm about this, merely advising Brahms to do his best to get better. But Brahms continued to weaken, spending much of his time in bed. Hel was often with him, she and the Goddess Eir the only ones who did not fear the catching of his sickness.

It frustrated the Goddess of Healing almost as much as it did Brahms. For all the work she had done with his father, Eir could not fathom the reason behind Brahms' weakening. He could read in her face, his death was coming, and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop it. He felt so sick, he couldn't even properly rail against what was happening. Just lay there, disgusted with himself for allowing this weakness to infest him.

But he WANTED to live. Wanted to do almost anything to ensue he got better. But no miracle was coming, Brahms was sure of that. Soon even Eir stopped her visits, leaving Brahms to Hel's attentive care. She tried not to, but Hel was often crying over him. She'd go so far as to climb in bed with him, and wrap her arms around his body, her head resting on his chest. 

One day, during a particular heavy weeping session, Brahms managed a growl. "I'm not dead yet." He said. Hel instantly gasped, sitting up to stare at him aghast. Her face had gone pale, and though her eyes were rimmed with red, she somehow manage to stop her tears from falling.  
"Of course you aren't. I never meant to..." She was stammering, looking horrified at the mere thought of him dying. "We'll...we'll find a cure. Eir WILL find a cure."

"Eir has given up on me." Brahms said with certainty. "She spends her days now concentrating on finding a way to prevent this from spreading." He softened his voice, gazing at Hel with what worry he could muster. "You shouldn't spend any more time with me."

"What kind of bride would I be, if I did not spend my time besides my fiances' sick bed?" Hel demanded. 

"You need to think of yourself!" Brahms said. "I am dying." Hel made a vocal protest, one Brahms spoke over. "There is nothing left to do for me. But you? You have all of eternity to live out. You..."

"I don't want to live if it's not by your side!" Hel said fiercely, tightening her arms around him. "Don't send me away...don't make me lose what little time we have left together."

Silmeria felt his frustrations, and it did not all have to do with the stubborn Goddess refusing to leave him. Brahms felt inadequate, felt there was something wrong with him that even now, seeing how devoted Hel was to him, he still couldn't love her. She deserved better, and Brahms knew with his passing, the Goddess would be able to find someone to replace him. It might take some time, but eventually she would move on. And her life would be better for this time he was sure she would find someone who would return her love.

"Hel..."

"Don't....don't say anymore!" She begged him. She lifted her gaze, her eyes wet with tears. Even in her abject misery she was beautiful, and yet she did nothing to stir him save for guilt. "I would give my life so that you could live!"

Silmeria felt the shiver that went through him, Brahms realizing the sincerity of Hel's words. She had meant them, had spoken them as an unbreakable promise between them. 

"You little fool!" Brahms managed to hiss. "Don't make such promises! Not to me, not to anyone!"

"But I love you." Hel insisted. "I'll do anything I can to save you!" 

But the saving wouldn't come that day, or even the next. Brahms would continue to linger between life and death, always tired, always hungry. No matter how much he ate and drank, his mouth was always dry. He was starving, and could not take enough food in him to sustain himself. It was a disease that would have him waste away slowly, sapping all life and vitality from him.

Hel continued to spend every waking moment with him. No one else came. No one else seemed to care. His brother, Odin certainly didn't. He was a coward, as frightened as the other Gods were, that he would catch Brahms' sickness. Brahms worried constantly for Hel's health, always searching her face for signs of a tiredness that had nothing to do with the late night vigils she kept besides him.

The dreams continued to plague him, tormenting him so that Brahms knew no rest even in sleep. They were practically nightmares, Brahms desperate to end the hunger that so plagued him. When he was awake and coherent, and had time to examine his dreams, Brahms thought the hunger was representing the sickness that had taken over his life. 

The day everything changed was the most vivid of Brahms memories. The sunlight streamed into his room, his bed just out of reach of it. Brahms had spent weeks in bed, weeks inside the castle. He longed to go outside, to feel the sun on his skin. He wanted to breathe fresh air, to see a sight besides the four walls of his room. But that wasn't going to happen. He knew he would die in this room, die with no one around him save for his fiancee.

The closeness they had shared during the weeks of his illness, didn't bond them together. Or at least it didn't make Brahms feel any closer to Hel, though the Goddess seemed as enamored as ever. Every morning she would come to see him, opening his curtains to let the sun in. Every morning she would curl up besides him in bed, just listening to the ever slowing beat of his heart.

Brahms was too weak to stop her, and in truth was too lonely to want to end the sole contact he had with the world outside his bedroom. He should have sent her away, especially when the dreams began to feature her. It was disturbing, Brahms finding he had unnatural urges towards her. The urge to hurt, to possess, to consume. He'd bleed her in his dreams, slice her open intent on the life beneath her skin. He never shared these dreams with Hel, too frightened, too ashamed, too disgusted with himself.

He came off of one of those dreams on this the day that should have been like any of the others. But it was not, Hel late for her visit. He wouldn't learn why until after she appeared, the Goddess dressed in a gown of midnight blue. It was fancier than her normal choice of dresses, and one look at her guilty face let Brahms know what the reason behind it was. 

"So he's done it." Brahms grumbled. "Odin has finally taken the throne."

Hel looked even more distressed, glumly nodding her head. "He couldn't put it off forever. There was things that needed to be done. And you..." She gasped, and covered her mouth before she could finish her sentence.

"And I am dying." Brahms finished for her. Hel did not try to protest, though silent tears trailed down her cheeks. It made him wonder how much longer he had to live, Brahms sighing as he leaned against the pillows. "It is good that we have a King at long last." Brahms told her. "We need a strong ruler, one that can guide us during this time of crisis..."

"It should have been you on that throne with him!" Hel exclaimed, coming over to the bed. 

"We can't focus on the shoulds. It appears Fate had a different plan for me, than to rule over Creation with my brother." Hel looked ready to fling herself on him, but he distracted her with a request. "Please....I'm thirsty..."

But it wasn't water he wanted, not when it would do nothing to appease the hunger inside him. He remembered his most recent dream, Brahms staring uneasy at Hel. He remembered how she had looked in his mind, all torn open to be a red ruin that only excited some unnatural beast inside him. And yet he couldn't look away from her, not even now while suffering from shame and disgust. He watched her every movement, Hel hurrying away to pour him a glass of water. He watched her like a cat might watch a mouse, unconsciously stalking his prey.

He hadn't realized then what he was doing, but Silmeria had. He was hungering for Hel, lusting after her life and vitality. When Hel returned to the bed, he used the pretext of the offered glass to touch her. To bump her hand, and cause the glass to overturn, the water spilling everywhere.

Hel immediately gasped. "Oh, I am so sorry!" She pulled out her handkerchief, though it was too small. It held no hope of soaking up enough of the spilled water.

"It was my fault." Brahms told her, eyes narrowing in on her as Hel bent over him. She began to attempt to mop up the water, her hands brushing over his wet shirt. It felt good to be touched by her, Brahms licking his lips. A deep blush bloomed in the Goddess cheeks, Hel realizing his shirt would have to come off. Brahms offered no resistance, allowing the closeness the pretext of removing his shirt offered them. Her hands seemed to shake, Hel fumbling as she concentrated on opening the buttons of his shirt.

Brahms' stared at her the entire time, his gaze unwavering. Sometimes he trailed downward, lingering on the cleavage her dress exposed to him. He saw the rise and fall of her chest with her breath, imagined the heart beating beneath her skin. His teeth began to HURT, Brahms lifting his gaze towards the necklace she wore. It matched the dress, all sapphires and diamonds that were coiled tight around her throat.

It was an extravagant piece, and it suited her. It showed off the smooth ivory of her skin, Hel pale from all the time she had spent in Brahms' bedroom. Brahms found himself staring at it, noting the long and elegant line of her neck. He had never noticed how beautiful a woman's neck could be, how erotic the sight of her hair pulled back from it would prove. But now, with Hel's long hair coiled up in an elaborate bun, he noticed. And he liked what he saw, Brahms licking his chapped lips.

"You're staring." Hel said, her blush deepening. Brahms barely registered her words, to enamored with her neck. Something was happening to him as he stared at it, some kind of change that set every nerve on fire within him. He tingled with awareness, with HUNGER. It made him want to put his lips to her throat, to kiss that pale, delicate flesh. To do more than just kiss it, to bite it.

Without even thinking, he had touched her. Hel had gasped, but did not fight him as Brahms pulled her against his chest. "Brahms?" She whispered, and he startled, realizing he had been leaning down towards her neck. He felt ashamed, a harsh thought in his mind reminding him this was no dream but reality. He couldn't, shouldn't do anything to Hel.

The Goddess sensed that a change had come over him, sensed the way he was inwardly pulling away from her. "Don't..." Hel whispered a plea, lifting her hands up to touch his face. "Don't pull back. Don't stop yourself from what you want to do..."

"You don't know what you ask for..." Brahms whispered hoarsely. He could see in her eyes she didn't, knew Hel would run screaming if she knew the dark urges that were screaming through him.

But she didn't know, she was woefully ignorant of how he wanted to HURT her. Eyes trusting and with an innocence that perversely pleased him, Hel began tugging his face down towards hers. He didn't even try to resist, sealing his mouth overs her, kissing her roughly and with more energy than he had previously shown in weeks. He wanted her so badly, wanted the life and vitality she possessed.

Brahms actually began growling as he kissed her. Hel began trembling in his arms, returning the kiss with inexpert eagerness. She sighed when he pulled back from her, eyes heavy lidded with pleasure. A pleasure that continued, Brahms kissing down onto the front of her throat. "Oh yes...yes....don't stop." Hel begged him. "Please!

"I..." Brahms' hand went to her throat, fingers carefully touching over the many stones of her necklace. "I won't." He suddenly promised her with a growl. It was a low, animalistic sound that should have frightened any sane thinking woman.

Silmeria didn't know what Hel thought of Brahms' growl. But she heard her gasp, the necklace being torn from her. The jewels scattered everywhere, and then Hel screamed. Brahms had bitten through the skin of her neck, sinking his newly elongated fangs into her pulse. Hel's body had gone rigid, she was struggling against him, crying out in pain. But Brahms wouldn't let her go, greedy, hungry grunts coming from him as he drank down her blood.

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To be Continued....


	33. Thirty Three

Hel's screams continued, though they had weakened in volume. It was fitting, for the Goddess was weakening beneath him, her hands feeble as she tried to push Brahms off of her. She had broken a fingernail in her attempts to scratch down his chest, the Goddess not even breaking open his skin for all her efforts. She tried slapping him, pounding her fists wildly against the sides of his head. It didn't even phase him, Brahms ignoring all her efforts, concentrating solely on the point of connection between them.

His mouth was fastened to her neck, his fangs sunk inside her as deep as they could reach. Her blood was a constant flow in his mouth, Brahms greedy, swallowing it down as fast as he could. It felt good to drink it, it's taste better than the sweetest of ambrosia. He didn't understand why this act wasn't disgusting him, why the blood wasn't repulsing him, nor did Brahms stop to examine the absurdity of what he was doing. He merely fed, existing only for this moment.

Hel was beneath him, her body stiff with fright and pain. His hands were gripping her shoulders, keeping her pinned to the bed as he fed. The warmth and vitality of her blood, it was filling him, chasing away aches and pains that had unfortunately become familiar to him. He no longer felt so weak, so helpless. He felt revitalized, and wanted MORE of that feeling. 

Hel let out one last pitiful scream, and then her voice broke on a sob. Not even that could reach through to Brahms, the man drinking down the very life-force that animated the Goddess. His body felt flush with power, strength surging through him. And yet it wasn't enough, Brahms needing more of Hel's blood before he would be satisfied.

He had been hungry for so long, starving for weeks now. The foods he had been given had done nothing to appease him, could not compare to the blood he was drinking now. Silmeria had thought she had known true hunger, but what she had felt was nothing compared to the starvation Brahms had gone through. It scared her as much as amazed her, Silmeria wondering how in the world Brahms had avoided becoming a revenant. 

He wouldn't become one now, not with Hel's life filling him. Sustaining him. He was left empowered, his emotions wild, Brahms in a feral state of bliss as he drank Hel closer to her death. Her struggles had all but stopped, Hel doing the feeble squirming beneath him. It roused the beast that had taken root inside him, Brahms finding he was EXCITED by her. Excited in a way he had never felt, not towards Hel, not towards any of the Goddesses in Asgard.

With Hel's own blood fueling him, Brahms began to get aroused. His cock grew in size, struggling to break free of the confines of his pants. His newly awakened lusts just added to his frustrations, Brahms savage at Hel's neck. She wasn't moving that way on purpose, her body twitching as the Goddess began to go into convulsions. And yet he couldn't stop, Brahms growling as he began grinding against her, all in an effort to relieve himself of his erection.

It wasn't any care from Brahms that saved Hel from rape. He had simply been too consumed with her blood, too taken with feeding to think clear enough to free them of their clothing. The blood taking was violation enough, Hel dying a slow, painful death in his arms.

And then a voice was screaming at him, as aghast as he was angry. Something hit Brahms, some powerful form of energy that knocked him off the Goddess. His fangs had torn free of her skin, blood spurting out even as her divinity worked to heal the wounds. Hel was pale, white as a sheet and unconscious by this point. Brahms could remember hissing, teeth exposed in a feral snarl. He had wanted to finish with the Goddess, was incensed that someone had interrupted them.

Energy crashed into him again, this time striking Brahms in the chest. Such was the force of the energy, it sent him flying back. Brahms hit the wall, landing just inches from where the narrow sunbeam lay on the floor. He was not yet recovered to thinking straight, it would take a third attack of energy to jolt Brahms into awareness. And when that happened, his own skin paled, Brahms staring towards the bed.

His brother Odin was there, the silver haired God keeping one eye on Brahms as he reached out towards the fallen Goddess. Hel did not stir, just laying there. Most of her blood had gone into Brahms' mouth, but there was a few splatters that had stained her once beautiful dress. The sapphires and diamonds were scattered all around her, her necklace destroyed by Brahms' own hands.

Odin fingers felt for Hel's pulse, hovering over her newly healed neck. But her powers hadn't been enough to prevent a scar from occurring, Odin seeming loathe to touch that mark of imperfection. "What have you done?!" Odin bellowed, and lashed out with his arm. Another ball of ether flew towards Brahms, the man not attempting to get out of the way. Brahms actually welcomed the energy crashing into him, reveled in the pain now that he was conscious of the crimes he had committed against Hel.

He didn't cry out, didn't so much as whimper, enduring the energy rolling over him. He felt sick again, but it had nothing to do with the illness that had plagued him for weeks. No, this was revulsion, the disgust making Brahms retch. Blood fell from his lips, the vomit stained with it. And yet he still felt energized, his body renewed, feeling as though it had never been sick at all.

He was no longer hungry. That realization made his sides heave, Brahms trying to throw up a second time. But his body stubbornly held onto the blood, held onto the life he had stolen from Hel. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Odin doing something to Hel, casting some sort of healing energy into her. Brahms prayed that it would be enough to save the Goddess, not wishing to have been the cause of her death.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?!" Odin demanded, still forcing energy into Hel. She didn't so much as moan, just laying there deathly pale. Brahms let out an anguished moan, mentally willing Hel to get better. It couldn't end for her, not like this, not at his hands. He did not love her, but that didn't mean he wished for Hel to die! 

"You've killed her!" Odin continued to rail. "How could you?! She trusted you, she LOVED you!"

"I know....I know!" Brahms moaned out, covering his face with his hands. They were shaking, HE was shaking. He remembered the trust in Hel's eyes, the love she had had for him. The innocent but eager way she had kissed him. She had gone into his arms willingly, but Brahms knew Hel would have never consented for what he had done to her following their kiss. He was a monster, who had preyed upon her, taken advantage of her love. "Hel..."

He had somehow gotten up off the floor, moving with unnatural speed towards the bed. Odin actually gasped, seeming frightened of his own brother. That fright was quickly replaced with anger, Odin throwing more ether at Brahms. It crashed into him, Brahms hitting another wall.

"Stay back! Don't come near her! Not after what you've done!" Odin shouted.

"But I..."

"You don't deserve the chance to do any farther harm to her!" Odin shouted. "You don't even deserve to look at her, to breathe the same air as her!"

"But I want to help!" Brahms made a protesting bellow. "Let me help her! Please...I'll...I'll do anything..."

"You've done enough!" Odin said stiffly. Brahms screamed, the sound an unnatural shriek born of his pain and frustration. Another wave of energy rolled into him, Odin reacting to that sound to hurl more balls of ether at Brahms. It served to do nothing but enrage him, Brahms suddenly lunging towards his brother. Sometimes the ether hit him, but more often than not, Brahms moved too fast for them to land. 

Brahms wasn't thinking beyond getting to Hel. In doing something, anything to help save her. Odin was an obstacle to that purpose, one he would remove if that is what it took. His first fist caught Odin in the face, the God's head turning to the side with a sickening crunch. Another blow would graze off the God's temple, Brahms trying to hit his brother for a third time.

Odin's arm came up, his hand grabbing at Brahms wrist. Stopping the blow from landing. His   
other hand went in low for Brahms' stomach, hand glowing with ether as he pummeled it against Brahms' body. The breath expelled forcefully from Brahms' mouth, Odin repeatedly striking him in that same spot again and again. But it didn't weaken him anywhere as much as it should have, Brahms hurting but still able to stand.

His one hand was held captive by Odin, but the other was free. Brahms lashed out with his arm, shocked when an arc of blood sprayed into the air. Odin screamed in pain, releasing Brahms to step away from him. Brahms stared stupidly, Odin's hands over his face, feeling for the damage. What the hands tried to cover were scratches, deep gouges in the skin that shouldn't have been possible. They were slow to heal, Brahms turning to look at his hands, seeing his nails were no longer normal. They were claws, long and sharp, curving slightly.

What kind of monster had he become? What kind of monster fed off of a woman's blood, and whose hands were not his own? Somewhere during his private musings, he tried to mutter out an apology. It was not one Odin was willing to accept, the God swinging out his arm, ether surging towards Brahms. In that moment Brahms would have welcome death, the man holding himself still for the oncoming onslaught. But then a feeble moan, a woman's voice, came from the bed,

"HEL!" Brahms was instantly by her side, kneeling on the bed as he took her in his arms. The energy Odin had unleashed crashed into the wall, destroying part of it. Brahms did not care, weeping tears as he held Hel in his arms. She was moaning, but her eyes were not open. Her skin was pale and cold, the goddess still in grave danger from what had been done to her.

"I am so sorry..." Brahms whispered to her, weeping. He did not ask for her forgiveness, knowing he did not deserve it. Not after what he had done to her. There was no way he could make amends, no way to atone for his sins against her. But he could try to heal her, Brahms pressing a hand to her chest. He was ready to send energy into her, to pump the healing ether directly into her struggling heart. 

Odin saw what he was going to do, and made no move to stop him. Both brothers knew that a second healing from a different God's hand, might make all the difference in seeing that Hel did not die this day. But Odin didn't like Brahms so near to Hel, keeping a wary watch on him, with both hands glowing with hostile energy. If Brahms went for Hel's throat, he had no doubt Odin would throw that ether at him, all in order to keep Hel from being further tortured.

Brahms concentrated, pressing his hand against her. He waited for the tell tale glow, the energy to course over his skin. But nothing was happening, Brahms narrowing his eyes, and gritting his teeth. 

"What's happening?!" Odin demanded impatiently. "Why aren't you healing her?!"

Brahms ignored him, trying again, trying to force energy out of his skin. He could feel a responding tingle, the power still inside him, but different. It was changed somehow, perhaps distorted by the very blood he had consumed. He had the power, but he could no longer use it to help others, might not be able to use it even to help himself. 

"It's not working!" Brahms admitted, abandoning all efforts to heal Hel. Instead he just cradled her to him, burying his face in her hair. "I...I can't do anything for her! Not like this! Brother...help me..."

Odin approached the bed, his face grim. "I'll help you all right." The energy flared brighter in Odin's hands, hinting at the strength of the ether he was about to use. This would not be the same as the ether Odin had used previously, this might very well be strong enough to kill Brahms. "I should have done this sooner." Brahms was nodding, thinking himself worthless and undeserving of the life he still had. "I should have just ignored our father's wishes from the start, and killed you the first chance I got! But no..." 

The energy was released, Brahms screaming as it sent him flying against the wall. He felt it crack and splinter, caving in around him. "I let our relationship blind me to what needed to be done. Blind me enough to show mercy to you, to give you the same kind of death our father had."

Brahms did not at first register what Odin was saying, simply laying there covered in dust from the wall. "I can see now the wasting away illness was too good for the likes of you." Another slam of ether, the wall caving in enough to flood the room with sunlight. Brahms screamed, but it had nothing to do with the ether this time. The sun had touched him, and where it caressed, it BURNED. Even through his clothing, he could feel it, his skin hot and tingling, as though he had thrust his hand directly into a fire's flames.

"I should have known you'd be trouble." Continued Odin. "I should have known you wouldn't be content to simply lay down and die. But I never expected you to be a danger to others!"

Brahms didn't understand what Odin was saying, couldn't make sense of any of it as he lay there burning. Pain was prevalent, and there was no escaping, Brahms not understanding why the sun was hurting him. He scrabbled at the floor, trying to pull himself forward. If he could just crawl out of the sun's reach, maybe he wouldn't hurt as much. But he was at war with himself, the instinct to survive fighting against his wish to die.

Odin stopped before him, actually kicking Brahms in the face. Brahms felt his lip split, tasting blood. The slightest of sounds escaped him, a growl so low Brahms wondered if Odin had heard it.

"I'm not just going to kill you." Odin said conversationally. 'I want you to understand exactly why you had to die."

"Because....I'm a monster..." Brahms said tonelessly. " A monster who almost killed Hel!"

"You're an abomination Brahms! One that cannot be suffered to live!" Odin agreed. "I don't know what I created in introducing the parasite into your blood, but it's clear that whatever you are, it is a mistake."

"Parasite?" Brahms was confused, and even more so when Odin let out a mean snicker of sound.

"You never thought to question the hows and whys of your sudden illness? The loss of your strength, the weakening of your systems?"

"It's the same sickness father had..." Brahms began, only to be cut off by Odin's laugh.

"Don't you get it? Are you too stupid to realize what I've done?" Odin's face was healing, but the blood still remained, staining his skin. "That very illness that took our father from us? Was introduced by my hand!"

"What?" Brahms went still, even as his skin screamed in pain. 

"You know as well as I do that very little can kill a God. The most dangerous being the will and determination of another deity." Odin smirked, gathering energy in the palm of his hands. "And there was no one as determined as I to see our father dead. It was practically child's play to come up with father's downfall, to engineer the parasite that would be his ruin." Odin thrust his hands downwards, energy slamming into Brahms' back. "That same parasite is IN you now, brother dear!"

"What?! When?" Brahms managed to grit out around the pain, Odin pouring destructive ether into him.

"Does it really matter?" Odin asked. "You're about to die now. And it'll be a much more satisfying death, to have you die directly by my hands, then this waiting game I have played with your body." Odin laughed again. "To think I wasted weeks on you. But I'm impressed...you had more strength, more life to you than father ever had, to have lasted this long. Ah but no matter. You die now. Good-bye brother..."

"You're no brother of mine!" Brahms snarled, grabbing Odin by the ankles. He jerked back, knocking Odin off balance. "No real brother could ever do what you did! To me, or to father!" He was still weak, but he was crawling forward, ready to use his new claws to tear open Odin. But the silver haired God screamed, throwing energy at Brahms, knocking him through the hole in the wall.

Brahms landed outside the castle, exposed completely to the sun. In an instant he caught on fire, even the skin beneath his clothing searing with flames. Brahms screamed, his clothing bursting with flames, disintegrating from the heat. Even his hair was on fire, flames signing down to his scalp. And still he tried to attack Odin, getting a back hand to the face for his efforts.

Brahms slammed into a tree, Odin stalking towards him determinedly. His face was an ugly scowl, eyes blazing with anger. It matched the ether in his hands, Odin flinging it at Brahms who barely dodged it. The tree exploded, destroyed by the attack, showering pieces down on both men. Silmeria could feel the immense pain Brahms was experiencing, the way his skin burnt to blackened husks. She felt like screaming, and yet Brahms held back his voice, concentrating on attacking Odin. His only wish in the moment was to take the God down, to kill him for all the wrongs he had committed. Only then would Brahms allow himself to lay down and die.

The fight was quick and brutal, Brahms constantly on the defensive. Even with his new speed, the man found it difficult to get in close to Odin. Not with the God constantly flinging his energy around. Explosions occurred all around them, the other Gods and einherjar appearing. They didn't know what to make of the creature that battled with their King, Brahms unrecognizable in the moment due to the damage from the fires.

Eventually they would end up near Bifrost, Brahms trying to dive into the water Iving for some relief from the fires that ate at him. But Odin would not allow it, his ether attacks barreling into Brahms back. Brahms would be knocked around, dropping to his knees on top of the rainbow bridge. Odin stalked towards him, exuding confidence. He knew as well as Brahms did, that Odin would not be the loser this day.

"And now it ends." Odin promised, smirking as he grew his most powerful ball of ether yet. Brahms knew there would be no coming back from this new attack, no more chances should it hit him. But he wasn't at peace with that realization, Brahms wanting Odin to die.

Staggering upright, Brahms managed a twisted smile at his brother. "Not yet it doesn't!" 

Odin's smirk turned into a scowl. "Die fool!" The attack was released, but Brahms was already tipping backwards, falling off the bridge. He'd miss the waters, hit instead the sky that stood between Asagrd and Midgard. Brahms would feel the coolness of clouds brushing his damaged skin, almost laughing at their wispy caress. He'd fall, plummet downwards, past Midgard, and into a third realm.

Naked, and still on fire, he'd land in the underworld. The land of demons, Nifleheim. It was dark here, the sun could not reach the underworld, no matter the time of day. Brahms hit the ground hard, a loud explosion of sound heralding his arrival. It sent many of the demons scattering. Brahms did not have the luxury of laying there stunned. Not when he knew Odin would soon come after him. 

Silmeria watched as the still flaming vampire crawled on hands and knees. His pain was great, his palms split and bleeding, his feet torn open. He was losing the precious blood he had stolen from Hel, might even die before he could find a safe place to recover in. Brahms would crawl like this for what felt like hours, always pushing himself to move, knowing if he stopped Odin or the demons would prey upon him.

His eyes were struggling to keep open, Brahms' vision blurring. He'd almost not realize where he was, not until he felt the blessed relief of water beneath his damaged hands. Gasping in relief, he threw himself face first into the cooling waters, allow them to put out the sun's flames. But the waters couldn't heal the damage done to him, not to his body, and not to his soul. 

Brahms might have let himself drown, if not for his purpose. He refused to let himself die before he saw Odin dead, before he avenged his father, himself, even Hel. It took more effort than he would have liked, but Brahms broke the surface of the waters. It was only then that he realized it must be the waters Hvergelmir, the very spring that had spouted up at the roots of the great tree, Yggsdrasil.

He began to swim the length of the spring, traveling a few miles before he came upon Yggsdrasil's base. It's roots were twisting about, ends sinking into the soil of the land. They formed many dark crevasses, some large enough for a person to fit inside. Even one as massive in size as Brahms. 

He heard screams, the demons were dying. Many more than a natural predator could account for. Brahms felt certain the sounds heralded Odin's arrival, and knew he did not have time nor the ability to last against the God. He did the only thing he could do, Brahms choosing to hide under the roots of Yggsdrasil. He wasn't pleased with this action, but knew there was no honor in going to face Odin now. In his current condition, Brahms would merely die, too weakened by his injuries and the sun to be an effective match against Odin.

Silmeria knew as much as Brahms had, that the man needed blood. Needed it to revitalize himself. But he had no way of knowing when and if he could force himself to feed on someone again. Not with the memories of Hel's panic and pain so strong in his mind. And yet even as he was repulsed, a part of him stirred, anticipating his next feeding. It only heightened his disgust, Brahms crawling deeper into the darkness.

The memory would begin to fall apart. Darkness was everywhere, Brahms sleeping under the roots of Yggsdrasil. How many days and nights passed like this? Silmeria did not know. Brahms was simply too injured, too in pain to even want to rouse himself. It hurt to move, his skin charred. But beneath that black ruin, cracks appeared. His skin was trying to heal itself, trying to peal back the ruined husk and give birth to new flesh.

It hurt. Silmeria's mind reeled at the agony Brahms was going through. Some days he wanted to die, to forget his vengeance, and let his existence end. Other days he was angry, knowing what was happening to him was all Odin's fault. The anger made him want to live, but mostly he just wanted the pain to stop.

The pain wasn't just of the body. His mind was tortured, Brahms remembering what he had done to Hel. Even worse, he remembered how good it had felt to feed off her. How exquisite the taste of her blood had been to him. He cursed himself, hating himself for what he did, and the fact that he wanted to drink from her again. Not even the scare he had had, the thought that he had killed Hel, was enough to let him forget the experience of her blood.

His body continued to try to heal itself, but it had reached it's limits. He needed to feed, to gain more blood to replenish his strength. The idea was both distasteful and intriguing, Brahms feeling his fangs elongate in his mouth. At times he was drooling, just from the mere idea of feeding. On anyone and anything. And all the while he stayed buried under Yggsdrasil roots, unwilling to leave the safety of the crevasse.

Eternity seemed to stretch onwards. Neither Brahms nor Silmeria could tell how long he stayed there. Pain, hunger, and guilt were the only constants in his life. It was a terrible way to exist, and Silmeria thought she herself would go insane from just the memories of Brahms' torture. How had he lived through it all? How had he managed to remain sane? A lesser man, God or not, would have given up and died, let Yggsdrasil be his grave. And yet Brahms held on, even if all he could do was lay there in the dark.

Then one day, sound intruded in on his awareness. It was different from the howls of the demons. It was near to him, close enough he thought he could reach out and catch that which made the sound. It was more than just sound once Brahms became aware that something was approaching him. He could smell things, smell the dirt on it's skin, sense the depravity of it's intentions. 

It was a demon, but one of the little ones. A small scavenger creature that had no chance of taking down one of the larger demons. It was forced to prey on others of it's kind, though more often than not it attacked the wounded, the dying. And it had found Brahms' hiding spot. It's eyes gleamed a sickly yellow, malevolent awareness shining in the darkness. It knew Brahms was there, and it sensed his pain.

Except for the sound of it's claws scrabbling over the hardened roots of Yggsdrasil, the demon made no sound. Not even a betraying growl, for that would alert others to the prey it had found. But the demon was excited, staring at Brahms as it began to crawl into the crevasse. Brahms was a feast, one that would sate it's hunger for days. The little demon grinned, maliciously excited as it inched towards Brahms.

The vampire just lay there, as though he would accept the end fate had brought him. The demon was cautious, moving so slow it was torture just waiting for it's approach. But after minutes of enduring this waiting game, it was within reach of Brahms. Silmeria had thought Brahms would give in to death at last, but the desire to live, to survive was stronger than any suicidal impulse he may have had.

Body screaming in pain, muscles protesting the movement, Brahms lashed out with his arm. The demon shrieked in surprise, the vampire's hand around it's throat. It fought him though, scratching claws over skin that had not healed. Brahms let out a low roar, but it was fury not pain that he expressed. Silmeria sensed him sneering, thinking death by this pitiful demon would be a pathetic end indeed. And something he could not allow.

With a jerk of an arm whose nerves were on fire, Brahms brought the demon close enough to bite. His hand was crushing the demon's throat, but it had screamed enough to rouse all of Nifleheim. Other demons would come, other scavengers. Brahms would feed on them all, his healing continuing until the burnt skin flaked off completely. 

It wasn't enough. The blood of the demons he fed off of, was nowhere near as strong or as pure as Hel's had been. He needed a better food source, needed the life and vitality of a God. He wanted Odin's blood, but knew in this condition he would not have it. Would not have any God's blood, Brahms too weak to feed off anything but scavenger demons. 

He continued to stay under the tree's roots. Occasionally another foolish demon would appear, heedless of the warnings that had spread through out Nifleheim about the monster under the tree. Mainly it was hunger driving the scavengers to him, the little demons desperate for a meal. Desperate to the point they would risk their own lives on the hope they could kill the monster before he killed them.

Was he gaining any power from these feedings? Neither Brahms nor Silmeria thought so. The little demons were no great sustenance, their blood doing nothing more than prolonging Brahms' life. He spent much of that time in a dream like state, often thinking about Hel, dreaming of her blood. Some days he'd remember those final minutes with Odin, the seconds where the God had revealed what he had done to Brahms.

He wasn't any closer to understanding just what had been done to him. But he remembered that Odin had said a parasite had been introduced into Brahms body. One that would suck out his strength and vitality, have him waste away till he was nothing. The parasite was always hungry, always demanding more from it's host body. And yet blood could stave off it's destructive qualities. Do more than that, the blood actually restoring health to the afflicted. Brahms didn't know why though, had no concept then of a symbiotic relationship between the parasite and it's host.

The meaningless days continued, the demons broaching his hole lessening with every kill Brahms did. The time between meals was growing, Brahms starting to starve once more. Whenever the hunger grew to that point, that was when Brahms thought of Hel the most. Remembering how it had felt to tear into her throat, her warm blood gushing into his eager mouth. Even as shame assaulted him, he yearned to repeat the experience. Sometimes, remembering the Goddess' struggles AROUSED him. And that left Brahms disgusted. 

And yet he couldn't stop lusting for her blood. For everything that rich, revitalizing liquid could give him. To the point he thought he smelled her sweet perfume, heard the rustle of her clothing, heard her voice calling out to him. And then with a jolt, he realized it was no delusion. Hel WAS here, somehow, miraculously in the underworld. He knew he shouldn't go to her, but he found himself crawling, dragging himself forward on his hands and knees.

Dirt covered him, but could not hide his nakedness. Brahms did not care, did not even take note that his new skin had changed. It was a much darker shade than it had ever been, as though the sun had left a permanent reminder of it's caress upon him. It would be a long time coming before Brahms took notice of all the changes that had been wrought in him, his hair not yet grown back after being burnt off.

He hardly looked like himself at all, Silmeria catching sight of his reflection in the waters of the spring Hvergelmir. He was naked and bald, and still recovering from his brush with the sun. And yet she could still shades of the man he would become, Brahms still looking impressive even with all the dirt covering him. He looked feral, hungry, like some wild creature from when Creation had first came into existence.

The underworld is a dimly lit land, a place where the sun cannot reach. It was still brighter than the hole he had spent an eternity in, Brahms blinking his eyes rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the difference in light. And then Hel's voice came, the Goddess calling his name. It sounded as though she was looking for him, the Goddess' voice a breathless appeal for the vampire to show himself.

Silmeria instantly suspected a trap. She wanted to warn Brahms, to order him not to go to Hel. But this wasn't a dream she could control, Silmeria helpless to do anything but watch as Brahms made a potentially foolish choice. She felt the eagerness in him, the great lust, and the even greater hunger. He had no caution in him, was beyond being wary. He just wanted, and wanted now. Not even the small voice protesting in the back of his mind, could stop him from seeking Hel out.

She's feel the shock of the cool water, Brahms having waded into the spring. He didn't even try to disguise his movements, splashing about loudly as he began to swim to the other side. Hel called for him again, and Silmeria was on edge, regardless of the fact she knew Brahms would somehow survive the encounter. But Silmeria suspected it was a trap of Odin's, the God using Hel as the means to lure Brahms to his death. 

Brahms reached the other side of the spring, wading out of the water. The water cascaded down his body, taking much of the dirt with it. Silmeria felt heat rise up in her, the girl embarrassed to see Brahms' body so clearly. She was relieved that he wasn't often looking at his reflection, though she saw more than enough of it to reaffirm her opinion that he had a magnificent body.

As embarrassed as she was, as distracting a sight as Brahms' reflection was, Silmeria never lost her uneasy feeling. She kept her own senses attuned, trying to extend her awareness past Brahms. He was too consumed with getting to Hel to even notice if others were watching. There were demons present, lurking in the shadows, trying to assess Brahms' threat. He didn't fear them, and neither did Silmeria, the girl more wary of Odin's potential sneak attack.

Brahms stalked through the underworld, using his senses to track Hel. He was determined that nothing and no one would stop him, and when one of the demons approached him, Brahms did not hesitate. The demon's head was torn off, it's body as massive as Brahms, crumpling. Brahms did not even deign to drink it's blood, not when a far tastier treat awaited him.

He wasn't a revenant. Brahms was too conscious for that. But this was a single minded pursuit, Brahms focused only on Hel and that which he could take from her. His nostrils flared as he caught a stronger whiff of her scent. He had found her, she was close! He let out a growl, one that was as threatening a sound as Silmeria had ever heard. It made her shiver in response, Silmeria recognizing the predator within him. 

Brahms sped forward, leaping over obstacles, ducking under tree branches. Hel's voice grew louder as he drew near. And then he came upon a clearing, Hel stopping short with a gasp when she saw him. Brahms stopped too, but his intent didn't change. For one instant he just looked her over, growling low in his throat. Hel was in a new dress, and there was no adornments around her neck. Silmeria could see the scarred side where Brahms had first fed from. Hel's hair pulled back to leave her neck exposed.

"Brahms." Breathed out Hel, but there was no fear in her voice. To Silmeria it only cemented her certainty that this Goddess was bait for Odin's trap. Hel had to know Odin was there, that the God would protect her.

Brahms did not respond in words, merely continuing to growl. Hel had been staring at his face, but now her eyes took a dip. She noted his nudity, the smallest of smiles curving her lips upwards. When she lifted her gaze back towards his eyes, Brahms was already moving. Hel gasped again, actually attempting to take a step back from the vampire that was now in front of her. 

And then she was in his rough embrace, his arms locking around her in possession. To Silmeria's astonishment, Hel did not struggle. Instead her smile became happy, her eyes holding a near fanatical look to them. Her hands reached for his face, Brahms growling a warning. She did not heed it, laying on him hands that were trembling. Silmeria realized Hel was excited, and it left the former Valkyrie flabbergasted. 

What happened next was even more astonishing, Hel tugging on Brahms. She needn't have exerted the energy, Brahms was already moving to go for her throat. When his fangs bit into her skin, Hel let out the most ecstatic of moans, the Goddess seeming not to care that Brahms was HURTING her. Hel's hands dropped to his shoulders, the Goddess digging her nails into his skin. That bit of pain only made Brahms more savage, the vampire pulling harder on her vein.

Hel did not hold herself still for the feeding, pushing herself against Brahms' naked form. Moving in an inexpert way that still drew a reaction out of the vampire. He LIKED feeling Hel move, enjoyed the pressure of her soft body on his. More than that, he liked the way his cock reacted, stiffening within seconds, and fueled by Hel's blood.

Hel continued to moan, to undulate in his embrace. It was driving him insane, Brahms starting to grind back. And as he moved, they fell to the clearing's floor, landing in the dirt that held very little grass. Hel was effectively pinned beneath him, and not caring one bit. She ran her hands down his muscled back, moaning a yes as she let her legs fall apart to accommodate him.

Her skirts were in the way, Brahms thrusting his erection against the silk fabric of her dress. He hadn't broken the feeding, Silmeria sensing he was nowhere near satisfied. In fact he was agitated, near restless and wanting. Silmeria remembered her own feeding, and how it had aroused her. She had fought against those feelings, but Brahms didn't. It was more like he couldn't, being controlled by all the desires coursing through him. The desire for Hel's blood and her body, Brahms wanting to possess every inch of the Goddess as his.

Silmeria senses Hel wanted that possession almost as much as Brahms, the Goddess taking his hands to guide them on her body. His claws snagged on the silk, tearing it open. She seemed to moan even more as his hands briefly touched upon her breasts. But there was little room for foreplay, Brahms too lost to that which was driving him. As ruthlessly as he had taken her neck, he would take her body, his claws tearing apart her clothing.

For one instant Hel would lose her ecstasy, screaming with the pain of a virgin's body newly tried. Her eyes seemed to clear of their haze, but only for a moment, Hel looking panicked as Brahms drove his length into her. Her hands tried pushing him away, but Brahms, growling in warning, took hold of her wrists. He'd press them back down, holding Hel down as he continued to move.

It was only a moment that Hel was defiant. And then she settled down, perhaps giving herself over to the feelings Brahms' cock was stroking through her. She resumed moaning, moving with him, lifting her legs up to lock around him. She seemed to be trying to guide Brahms movements, trying to use her legs to control the pace of his thrusting.

Silmeria felt how good Brahms was feeling. It went beyond the singular sensations of feeding and sex, to the powerful force of both combined. She felt the tension in him easing, the blood working it's magic as Brahms tried to keep up his frantic pace. He was no longer feeding so hard at Hel's neck, but he was moving his hips with a frenetic energy. Building up feelings in his lower half, feeling the first pleasure he had felt in what seemed like decades.

Silmeria didn't know what to make of the feelings. It was a strange experience, Silmeria learning just how good sex felt for a man. As strange as it was, she could not deny how arousing it felt. A part of her even wondered how much better sex would feel if the act actually had meaning behind it, if the person who was one's partner actually mattered. She knew Hel did not matter to Brahms, even now he cared nothing for her beyond her blood and the pleasure she could give him. He was using her, using Hel in the worst way imaginable.

But Hel didn't mind, moaning and crying out. Letting out little ooohs of satisfaction, all her pain forgotten. When Brahms lifted his head from her throat, his lips and chin were stained with her blood. He looked at her, but did not truly SEE Hel. He just saw the vessel on which all his desires could be satisfied. He began to grunt, to groan, his body doing a mighty heave into her. Hel all but squealed, arching up off the ground as best she could.

Silmeria might have screamed then too. It was a scream of shock, Brahms' pleasure rippling through HER. She experienced his orgasm, felt the surge of relief go through him as he flooded Hel's insides with his seed. A great shudder shook him, Brahms wanting nothing more than to collapse on top of Hel. But at the same time he felt energized, as though he could move mountains with his bare hands.

The combination of sex and feeding, it's aftermath was a tiring experience. But to rest was dangerous, especially out in the open. Brahms started to lift himself up off Hel's body, the urge to crawl back into the crevasse under Yggsdrasil strong within him. All in order to hide away, wait out the healing the blood would give him. It was already working, Brahms feeling a scratchy sensation on his scalp. His hair was trying to grow back, forming tiny, dark brown spikes.

He didn't get far, Hel keeping her legs locked in place around him. At some point Brahms had let go of her wrists, distracted by the odd sensation of his hair growing back at a rapid pace. Hel reached for him with her freed hands, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him back down on her. He let out a confused growl, then froze. He had gotten a good look at the woman beneath him, the Goddess that was clinging to him.

Any pleasure Brahms had been feeling instantly went away, the vampire staring in horror at Hel. She was shining, literally glowing with happiness. Her skin was far too pale for his liking, and her eyes held a glassy sheen to them. She looked at Brahms and yet was not all there, as though something had broken in her mind. That thought made Brahms uneasy, Silmeria realizing he blamed himself for any damage that may have been done to Hel's mind.

He had to get away from her. He knew that. Not only get away, but STAY away from the goddess. But was such a thing possible now? Brahms had tasted Hel's blood, not once but twice. He was sure he was addicted to her taste, and Brahms was certain he would always seek her out if the opportunity presented itself. Especially with her here in Nifleheim. 

His horror mounting, he fought with the Goddess. Fought against her clinging embrace. Even weakened by blood loss, Hel gamely held on, making it more of an effort than Brahms would have liked to escape. She'd actually scream when he got free, a despairing look on her face as she tried to scramble up off the ground to come after him. But Hel was in pain, actually wincing from the rough possession he had done of her body. That wince only made Brahms feel worse, and was the last sight he had of Hel, before he took off out of the clearing. Hel knew she could not keep up with him, and her screams rang out. Angry, despairing, wretched. They seemed to follow Brahms all the way back to Yggsdrasil, and even once he buried himself into his crevasse, he heard Hel's voice. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	34. Thirty Four

The next days were a new kind of torture for Brahms, the vampire trying to resist with all his might the allure the Goddess and her blood held for him. He didn't care about the healing Hel's blood had given him, didn't care that his body no longer screamed in pain, or that his hair had finally grown back. To Brahms it wasn't a fair trade, what had he given Hel in return for the healing her blood had bestowed upon him? Nothing. His face often burned with shame, Brahms remembering how he had not only taken Hel's blood, but her body. It was double the violation, Brahms neither gentle nor caring towards the Goddess.

Those first few hours were the worse where shame was concerned. Brahms often had to withhold his groans of embarrassment, flashes of memory coming to him, reminding him of the things he had done to Hel. It mattered not that the Goddess had seemed to enjoy herself. Brahms knew he had done her wrong.

He remembered the look in her eyes, the glassy sheen to them that spoke of a mind that was not all there. And that memory would make him moan anew, Brahms knowing he had done damage, perhaps irreparably so, to the Goddess. To her very mind. Something had to have broken, to snap, for the Goddess to come seeking him out. For Hel to have come to enjoy the act that had hurt her so badly the first time.

Even as Brahms stayed hidden, he could hear her. Hel was wandering along the opposite shore of Hvergelmir. Her voice was at times frantic, showing her near desperate need to find him. Other times it was beguiling, seductive even as Hel let out entreaties, trying to draw Brahms out of hiding. The sound of her voice was driving him mad, Brahms gritting his teeth and wishing she would go away.

She didn't. Hel was determined to find him. At times he would hear the sound of ether dispersing, the Goddess not above defending herself against the demons who would seek to prey on her. Even knowing Hel was in danger, was not enough to get Brahms out of his crevasse. That only added to his self loathing, Brahms knowing he should be there, actively defending the Goddess. But he feared going to her, feared that any contact, brief though it might be, would end with him sinking his fangs into her body.

Sometimes Hel broke down sobbing. It was different, worse than the crying she had done at his sick bed. Here the sound was so forlorn, so shattered and broken, it grated on his nerves. Hel's cries were plaintive at times, the Goddess speaking out loud how she didn't understand why Brahms would forsake her. It hurt him to hear her like this, but Brahms felt his abandonment of her was for the best. 

The thing inside him didn't agree. The sickness, or parasite as his brother had called it, continued to make it's demands. It was renewed, feeding off the life and vitality Brahms had taken from the Goddess. Even as Brahms flourished, so did the parasite. It would actively feed off his energy, and the fact that so much of the blood went towards healing Brahms, well it only served to quicken his hunger.

Was there ever a moment where Brahms could be at peace? It didn't seem that way. Not to Brahms, and certainly not to Silmeria. Not with Hel a constant presence, her voice always beseeching Brahms to come to her. It would only grow more difficult, Brahms finding as his hunger began to return, the more pressing was his desire to go to her.

Silmeria was right with him as Brahms struggled against himself. She felt his pain, felt the hunger and how it slowly drew everything from him. Felt him ride out the last of his energy reserves, the vampire trying to ignore the Goddess who so foolishly placed herself in danger time and time again. Silmeria felt it all, the self loathing, and the grief he gave into whenever he slipped, whenever he so much as imagined going to Hel, taking her a third time.

The struggle not to feed was a losing battle once Brahms had tasted blood for the first time. The parasite within him would not be denied, slowly taking over Brahms' instincts, urging him forward so that the only thing the vampire knew was the satisfying of his hunger. Silmeria could sympathize, remembering how hungry she had been, how she had suffered with pangs of starvation for the three nights she had denied herself. She realized the hunger only grew worse once a vampire has tasted blood for the first time. As though with the act of satisfying the hunger, it damned you forever to crave more of blood.

It was no surprise to Silmeria when Brahms eventually gave in to his hunger. The very struggle within him, the fight to resist, had only served to weaken him all the quicker. To a vampire, resisting one's hunger was an ultimately futile act. Especially when a food source was so near. 

She was with Brahms as he crawled out of his hiding spot. With him as he plunge into the waters of the springs, swimming determinedly towards Hel. She even hungered as he did for the Goddess, Silmeria wanting her blood even though she knew the act would only shame Brahms, make him fill with even more self loathing. In the moment, Silmeria was as much an addict as Brahms was, their drug of choice that warm liquid that flowed in the Goddess' veins.

They'd find the Goddess quick enough, Hel resting on the shores of Hvergelmir. Such was her distressed state that she hadn't bothered to fix her dress, the silk hanging off her in tatters. It left her body obscenely exposed, but Brahms barely took note of her near naked state. His eyes were drawn to her neck, drawn to the scarred side where he had sunk his fangs in twice.

Hel did not wait for the vampire to approach her. She scrambled off the ground, and practically threw herself into Brahms' arms. Even with that sign of her eagerness, Brahms grabbed her. A low, animalistic growl escaped him, the vampire not trusting that Hel would try to escape. But she didn't make an opposing move, instead pressing eagerly against him. Hel's hands would touch him, running over the muscles of his arms, smoothing palms over that broad chest of his.

Neither Brahms nor Silmeria had any patience for Hel's touches. With the preternatural speed of the vampire, Brahms would drive his fangs into her neck. The scarred skin would split open, the warm blood gushing into his mouth. Those first mouthfuls weren't enough to appease him, his stomach still clenching violently in starvation. That would make him pull harder on her vein, drawing in even more blood in a desperate attempt to soothe the hunger.

Hel would moan, her eyes falling close as she gave herself over to the feeding. But she didn't stop touching Brahms. Her hands would slip behind him, feeling down his back. Her nails would scratch over his skin, her hands would cup and knead an ass that was as finely sculpted as the rest of him. Silmeria was uneasy with the liberties the Goddess was taking, something like an unnatural, irrational surge of jealousy filling her. She tried to stay focused on the taste of Hel's blood, but even that was ruined by what the Goddess was doing to the body Silmeria shared with Brahms.

She tried to ignore when Hel's hands pushed Brahms against her, the Goddess rubbing herself against his erection. Tried not to feel the sensation of her nails digging into his ass, or how soft Hel's skin felt against Brahms' hardness. But sex seemed to go hand and hand with feeding, once Brahms had taken enough blood to satisfy his hunger, his appetite and attention turned towards sating his body's desires.

Silmeria could have screamed when Brahms lifted Hel up off the ground. Could have raked her own claws across the memories, protesting the way the Goddess locked her legs around the vampire. Once had been bad enough, but to experience Hel in this manner again? Even with her mind clouded by Brahms' crazed inner predator, Silmeria rebelled against what was being done.

Even worse, she knew with a certainty that Brahms would be horrified once he returned to his senses. Silmeria felt sick with loathing, trying to block out part of Brahms' memories. Trying not to let the pleasure overtake her, Silmeria not wanting to enjoy the acts he did with Hel.

He never kissed her. That was an act too tender, to intimate for what Brahms was doing to Hel. It was no great affection that drove him to mate with the Goddess, no lingering feelings of love and devotion. This was pure need, a pure sating of his lusts. It would be an act repeated, sex and the great self loathing that followed happening two more times before Brahms began to rethink his stance of avoidance.

It was clear that trying to stay away from the Goddess was an impossible act. He was as drawn to her, as she was to him, though he couldn't understand why. This early in his experience, in his memories, Brahms had no concept of what he was doing. He certainly had no reason to expect that the very act of feeding could bind a pair together. That he could have in fact made a blood slave out of Hel.

No, it would take many years, and many feedings before Brahms began to take note of patterns and develop his theories about the vampires. Right now, hidden away in his crevasse, he could only marvel at the fact that Hel constantly sought him out. He was no closer to knowing what he had done, how he had affected her. Her mind was damaged, but not in the way he thought.

It was for the sixth feeding that Brahms went to Hel willingly. He did not even try to wait out the hunger. He would not give it the opportunity to take him over yet again. Nor would he attempt to use Hel beyond feeding off of her. It was time to set limits, to place boundaries on this thing between them. He dared not call it a relationship. It was too one sided for that.

Hel as always, was waiting for him, a dreamy expression on her face. She was never all there, her mind seeming focused only on pleasing Brahms. She still hadn't bothered to clothe herself, as though it did not matter. It was just a sign of how much he had damaged her, because the Goddess had always been one for decorum, prim and proper to the point she would have been scandalized to have them both be naked around each other.

Silmeria noted that Brahms tried to be gentle this time, slowly biting into the scarred side of her neck. Hel would gasp, and let out a low keening sound, her hands clutching at his arms for those first mouthfuls. Brahms kept her hands from moving over his body, the vampire grabbing her wrists, and twisting them behind the Goddess' back. Hel would thrash and move restlessly against him, wanting to touch him, wanting to spur him into taking her.

But Brahms was in control this time, drinking her blood and ignoring his arousal. Ignoring hers as well, Hel whimpering in frustration. When he finally finished feeding, Brahms still held Hel captive, not trusting her to throw herself on him. He still felt disgusted, but nowhere near as much as he would have had he taken her body as well as her blood.

Ignoring his aroused state, he stared at Hel. She stared back, her eyes looking almost feverish in their glassy eyed state. Still holding her, he bowed his head, muttering a low apology. "I am sorry Hel. Sorry for everything I have done to you. Everything I continue to do."

Confusion flickered briefly in her eyes, the Goddess not understanding the apology. Brahms felt all the worse for her lack of understanding, his eyes drifting away from her face to her body. He noted the dirt, noted the remains of blood and other fluids that had stained her skin. She hadn't been taking care of herself, not even bothering to wash. The guilt filled him, Brahms knowing he was responsible for this.

In perhaps the greatest act of kindness he could still show Hel, Brahms would guide her into the spring with him. There in Hvergelmir's waters, he would start to bath her, working to clean her of all the dirt and grim that covered her. It was an act that only compounded Hel's confusion, the Goddess not understanding the motive behind Brahms actions. She kept trying to touch him, and for that reason alone did he use one hand to restrain her wrists, while the other worked to clean her.

Her clothing was not worth salvaging. He tried not to look at her body once they were out of the water. Hel just stared at him, waiting expectantly for him to either feed again or use her for sex. He did neither, his frustration mounting at the utter trusting manner in which she would give herself over to both acts. It was that frustration that ultimately moved him to speak, Brahms as exasperated as he was guilt ridden.

"Why do you stay with me?" He hadn't expected to get an answer. Brahms had noted Hel almost never spoke, save to whisper or scream his name. "There is no real purpose for you here, no reason for you to be in the underworld."

"I have a purpose." Hel's unexpected answering startled him, Brahms' jaw dropping in shock. Her eyes were still feverish, but Silmeria sensed Hel was actually looking at Brahms. Seeing him. 

"A purpose?" Brahms managed to ask. 

Hel smiled, the expression dreamy. "My purpose is you. To be with you, to see to your needs, your desires."

That didn't make him feel good to hear, Brahms grabbing her by the arms. "Why do you say that? How can you want to do anything for me, after what I did to you? The pain I caused you, the pain I continue to cause." She just looked confused, making Brahms want to shake her. "I nearly killed you. I still can! Hel, we don't know how often I can feed off you...how much more of this you can take before breaking."

"I would gladly give my life to see you live....thrive..." It was eerie, the words a reminder of something similar she had said at his sick bed. Brahms remembered how Hel had spoken words, a promise about how she would give her life so that he could live. Back then he had felt she meant it, felt as though Hel had made him an unbreakable promise. Was that promise what drove her now, what brought Hel to him? He was uneasy, frowning at her.

"You shouldn't be here." Brahms told her. "You should leave this place...leave me." Hel slowly shook her head no, her smile dimming in response to his words. "Damn it!" He growled. "I am not asking you, I am telling you what you should do! For your own good, stay away from me!" He would have thrust her away from him if Brahms thought she wouldn't come after him.

"That is not what you truly wish for." Hel said with conviction. She placed her hand on his chest, right over where his heart still beat. "I feel you." She continued, tone soft. "I feel your desires, your wants and needs. They call to me...tell me what to do. They draw me to you, invade my dreams until all I can think of is you. I've felt your pain, the hunger that gnaws at you. You've called to me...called for an end to that pain, the hunger. I can give you that end, and I do so gladly."

Silmeria felt Brahms' confusion, not understanding just what the Goddess was talking about. "How can you feel my pain?" he demanded. "How can you know anything about this hunger I feel?"

Hel reached for his hands, bringing them up to her face. She had his fingers press against her temples, Hel smiling as she talked. "You speak to me here." He just stared at her, not understanding. "Your mind touches mine...has touched mine ever since you bound me to you."

"Bound you to me?" He repeated, letting Hel guide his fingers to the scarred side of her neck. "I bound you to me when I bit you?"

"Yes." Hel said, seeming far too happy about that. "I am yours now. Forever."

"Forever..." He whispered, and felt no joy at that. He felt even worse when Hel tied to go up on tip toe, the Goddess wanting to kiss him. Brahms stepped back out of reach, moving fast as though lightning had struck him. Hel's expression distorted, confusion in her eyes for she did not understand why he avoided her lips.

"If...if what you say is true..." Brahms said, when he had regained his composure. "I have done you a great wrong...." Hel just stared at him, as though not understanding what he had said. "I never meant to do this, never meant to bind you to me."

"I do not mind..."

"Forgive me, but you don't seem to have enough free will left to make up your mind either way!" Brahms snapped. Hel did not even look hurt, just standing there ever patient. "I've taken your free will away." He muttered more to himself than her. "I've all but made you my slave...." She was inching towards him again, looking as though Hel wanted to touch Brahms once more.

"I am happy." She insisted, to which Brahms snorted in response. "I am content, so long as I am with you. As long as I can serve you."

But that wasn't what Brahms wanted to hear. Hel's mindless devotion, her happiness was only horrifying him. It made him want to run, to flee her, even as he knew the hunger would make him seek her out. Since Hel's arrival in Nifleheim, Brahms had stopped feeding on the little scavenger demons. Hel's blood was all he wanted, the craving for it driving him to her, again and again. Even if he left now, Brahms knew he would be back. 

"You have to leave." Brahms ordered her, tone fierce. "Being here, with me or without, is no good for you!"

"But I........!"

"You were never meant for the underworld. You are a pure creature, a Goddess of light and love. This realm, these demons, even me, are too good for you." He wanted to scream, to howl as he saw she did not understand him. "Hel, I command you. Return to Asgard."

"But that is not your true wish..."

"The damn it is not!" Brahms growled. "I don't know if I can, but if it's possible, I will free you from this enchantment. Until I find the way, you must stay away from me. You must return to your home in the heavens."

"You will change your mind." It was more knowing than she had previously showed, Hel smiling all the while. "When the hunger and desires get out of control, you will call to me..."

"Even if that happens, you must not come to me!" Brahms told her. "For your own good, and my peace of mind, you will remain in Asgard." Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, Brahms stepping forward to seize her by the arms. "Promise me, Hel!"

"I...I will do only what you command of me." She said, her eyes lowering. It wasn't the promise he wanted, but it was better than nothing. He would just have to avoid thinking about Hel, to not even dream about her or how appetizing her blood was. Maybe then this bond between them would be broken, Hel able to stay away from Brahms and the underworld.

"Get dressed." He ordered gruffly, letting go of her. He knew she could still use her powers from the fact she had fought off many demons while in the underworld. Brahms would have Hel make him clothing too. It was a step towards making him feel like less of a monster, and more like a civilized being. He told himself monsters didn't wear clothes, didn't have conversations with Goddesses.

"Return to Asagrd." Brahms would tell Hel once more. "Tell no one where you have been. Especially not Odin."

"Of course. I would not endanger you." Hel bowed her head, ether already sparking around her. He saw the sadness of her smile, the agony it was costing Hel to part from him. But Brahms was determined this would be the last time he ever saw Hel, the vampire wanting to save the Goddess from him and from herself.

It didn't work out according to Brahms' wishes. The hunger that was ever a constant presence in his life returned. He'd tried to wait it out, tried to sate himself on demon's blood. But it was never as fulfilling, never as sweet and sustaining as the Goddess' blood. Even as he tried not to remember the taste of her, he would unconsciously call out to Hel. Invading her dreams with his blatant need for her.

It was a need the Goddess would not ignore. She'd come to Nifleheim again and again, eager to see to Brahms' appetites. Those were perhaps the worse feedings, the taking of her neck and body violent. Brahms always felt worse after she left, horrified over what he continued to do to Hel. He'd even begin to see the futility of keeping them apart, Brahms allowing Hel to make daily trips to the underworld all in order to feed him before his appetites took him over and had him hurt her.

Hel's visits didn't just serve to sate his hunger. She brought him information, Brahms learning of his brother. Odin was busy as King of all Creation. He was seeing to the population of the realms, creating new races to live and prosper under his rule. There was the elves of Alfhiem, the giants of Jotunheim. And among all these races, was the mortals of Midgard. 

The humans were Odin's pet project. A short existence whose souls would live on, Odin put all his effort and care into developing this race. The humans were quick to worship the God, to cower in fright of his wrath, and to make daily offerings to earn his blessings. They were still in their infancy, barely better than animals at this point, but already their whole existence was based on pleasing Odin. Their faith and devotion seemed to empower the God, Odin gaining even more strength from their belief.

He had yet to set up a system for the judging of human souls. At the moment they lived and died, only to reincarnate and repeat the cycle. It was still some time away before Odin would set up a warrior's paradise, and damn all the other souls to the demons of the underworld. At that moment, Odin was content, thinking he had no one to challenge his position of power.

It seemed Odin had all but forgotten Brahms. As though he had assumed the vampire had died shortly after his arrival in Nifleheim. The news did not appease Brahms. He was angry that Odin did not think him a threat, even as he was grateful his supposed death had bought him the time to heal. The time not only to heal, but to grow into his strength. 

At that time in the memories, Brahms had yet to discover any powers. He had noted the loss of the use of ether, the divine energy just a persistent tingle under his skin whenever he tried to call upon that power. But he was strong, perhaps as strong as when he had been a God. And his speed? It was unnatural, Brahms able to move faster than anything in the underworld.

He had not yet learned to teleport, to mesmerize with his gaze. But the beginnings of the compulsion were there, Silmeria noting he had to have use it in order to bind Hel so thoroughly to him. The Goddess continued to feed him, and only her divine status kept her from withering away from how often she gave up her blood. Brahms continued to feel guilt over what he was doing, over how he was using Hel. And yet he couldn't stop, nor would he risk binding another God or Goddess to him in the manner he had done Hel.

And then one day, Hel's visits stopped. As sudden as she had appeared in the underworld, now she was gone. No amount of hunger pangs could draw Hel to him, Brahms suffering once more. Forced to feed off the many demons, all in a manner to prolong his life. Brahms was losing his strength, the demons' blood unable to do more than sustain his life.

Brahms had no way of knowing what had happened to Hel, or why she had abandoned him. But he realized he had become dependent on her, and not just for her blood. He missed talking with her. Hel had been a fount of information, keeping him abreast of Odin and the other God's doings. She had been his connection to the Heavens, to his old life. She had been his one link to civilization, and without her, he knew only hunger.

How long did Brahms remain in the underworld after Hel had gone? Silmeria could not tell. But he wasn't gaining strength feeding off the demons, wasn't doing anything but prolonging his misery. He needed to find a new food source, and yet he didn't dare return to the heavens. If Odin didn't kill him on sight, any God or Goddess Brahms tried to prey on surely would.

How low he had fallen, Brahms often thought to himself. That he would actively plot to feed on another, to do to them what he had done to Hel. To do what he had once thought he'd never be able to repeat. But his time spent in the underworld, feeding off of the many demons had jaded Brahms. To the point he was certain he'd have no trouble feeding off another.

That certainty, along with his hunger, was what ultimately got Brahms to leave the underworld. But it was not to Asagrd that he went to. He'd emerge out of the underworld, stepping out onto the land of Midgard. It would be nighttime in this part of the realm, the moon just a sliver in the sky. The air smelled cleaner here, free of the sulfur and brimstone stench of Nifleheim.

Midgard was a lot different then from the realm it would become. It was still mainly a lush, green paradise. The mortals had yet to reach the stage of advancement where they would be capable of building cities. They couldn't even make fire, having to steal embers of it when lightning struck the forest, and set trees ablaze. The humans though were crafty enough to keep the fire they stole blazing, and use it to keep away many of the predators that roamed the land. But there was one predator who did not fear the flames. Brahms was that predator, walking into the cave, pretending to be one of them.

The humans were too trusting, too welcoming. They never suspected the monster that was walking amongst them, until after Brahms had began to feed. He didn't do it out in the open, drawing aside a human female. She was not like Hel at all, she died when Brahms savagely tore into her neck. He'd feel remorse later, too busy at the moment drinking down her blood.

The human female wouldn't be the last one to die. Brahms would feed on several more, men and women. He'd have to learn to control his bite, to be gentle instead of rough. He'd learn just how much pressure he could exert to not kill a human, but by that time the mortals' fear and anger were roused. They had put together that the deaths had started occurring just as the stranger Brahms had arrived. Fearful though they were, they attacked him. Sticks and stone weapons being used against him. Brahms did not want to hurt these humans, did not want to kill anymore. But he couldn't allow them to hurt him. He fought back only enough to get away, and all the while feared his punches and throws might have killed even more.

He'd move on, find another settlement of humans. The act would repeat itself, Brahms feeding off humans until they got suspicious of him. And then he would be driven off, sent to find another group. He should have stayed away from them, but his hungry needs guided him. As did the fact that their blood was better than the demons, more nourishing, more empowering. It wasn't anywhere like the blood of Hel's, but it was something that did more than just sustain him. He found the humans were a more than adequate replacement for Hel's blood.

It was a boring time for Brahms. Hs days consisted of finding a place to hide from the sun, while his nights were focused on hunting humans. He missed Hel's companionship, the sound of her voice. These humans could barely communicate with one another, their language still developing. But they began to spread stories about him, about the monster that preyed on them.

Even worse, they began to pray to their God. To beseech Odin to save them from that which fed off of them. Odin might not have paid attention to just one group's prayers. But if was more than just one group, people gathering all across the land. Any settlement Brahms had come in contact with and preyed upon, now knew to fear him. And with that fear they asked for deliverance from the monster that stalked them.

That deliverance would come in the form of a lesser deity. A warrior Goddess that would become known as a Valkyrie. Silmeria startled to get a look at the first Valkyrie, never having dreamed that her kind had been created from the mortal's need of protection from Brahms. The battle maiden arrived in a bolt of lightning, human looking but retaining an air of divinity to her. 

The humans fell to their knees in awe and worship, prostrating themselves before the beautiful Goddess. Though she looked human, she was set apart from the mortals, her bearing regal. She was clean where they were dirty, and her clothes and armor were unlike anything the mortals of Midgard had ever seen. Her clean hair was a pale, buttery yellow, and her eyes were a blazing emerald color. 

Brahms had been hidden up in a tree, surveying the humans for his next meal when the Goddess had arrived. He had instantly hungered for HER blood, the very divinity that flowed through her veins calling to him. The Valkyrie herself had seemed to know he was there, her emerald gaze lifting to seek him out where he hid. Brahms had felt a prickle of unease, but more than that he had relished the thought of taking down this woman.

In a way, she truly was a gift from the heavens. What Odin had meant to be the monster's destruction, might very well be his salvation. Brahms thrilled at the thought of a divine food source, at the thought of the power that the Valkyrie maiden would give him. It made him careless, Brahms leaping down from the tree branches, to stalk into the crowd.

The humans noticed him, and with screams they scattered. Only a few brave men remained, holding their sharpened stick spears and stone axes. But they didn't dare approach Brahms, just kept a wary eye on him as he stalked towards the battle maiden. She let him approach, drawing her sword when he got but a few inches from her. Brahms barely took notice of the sword, making a near fatal mistake as he lunged to close the distance between them. 

That sword of hers did an upwards slash, tearing open both his skin and the shirt Hel had made for him. His blood splattered onto the Valkyrie's armor, and for one-second Brahms was stunned. The Valkyrie allowed a mocking smile to cross her lips, her sword arm already moving to thrust her weapon into him. Brahms just barely got out of the way, the Goddess pursuing him as the remaining humans cheered. 

He had no weapons, save for his fangs and his claws. The Valkyrie wore metal molded to her body, protecting much of her vital spots from him. He made the effort all the same, claws scratching harmlessly across her breast plate. Sometimes he'd grab at her hair, dragging her off balance long enough for him to punch the Valkyrie in the face.

She was never more than briefly stunned, always determined as she came after him. Sometimes her sword would slash across a part of his body, more of his precious blood spilling out of him. It only made him hungry, Brahms seething as he determined he would have her blood to replace that which he had lost. 

Silmeria noted that in his memories, Brahms was not yet the powerful figure she had come to know. He was still weak, lacking many of his abilities and fighting prowess. He couldn't even teleport, forced to rely on his preternatural speed to evade the Valkyrie's attacks. But not all of them, his back getting sliced open. The Valkyrie was more than a match for him, might even be his end.

It wasn't much of a fight. Brahms was forced to flee, the Valkyrie giving chase. They'd spend hours this way, Brahms being driven further and further through the woods. He was conscious of the time, of how the moon was close to setting. Desperation drove him to move, Brahms knowing he could not afford to be trapped outside when the sun rose. Nor could he go to one of his hideaways, not with the Valkyrie on his tail.

There was only one option left to him, Brahms fleeing for the safety of the underworld. The Valkyrie would pursue him there, the battle maiden fearless of Nifleheim and it's demons. But there was one less thing to worry about, Brahms knowing the sun's light would never penetrate down into the underworld.

How long had it been since he had last set foot in Nifleheim? Months? Years? Brahms did not know, nor did he care at the moment. He was too focused on surviving, on avoiding the Valkyries blade. Their fight, and the blood he was spilling would draw the attention of the nearby demons. Those demonic creatures would stay at a safe distance, waiting to finish off the loser.

The fight would wage onwards, the two opponents supernatural beings that did not tire in the manner of mortals. Brahms did not think he was winning, but occasional he'd land a blow on the Valkyrie. Sometimes denting her armor, weakening it. He didn't know it then, but he was hurting the Valkyrie, little by little. Same as she was hurting him, her sword scratching open his skin.

It was a shock when the armor over her back shattered open. It had finally given in to his constant pounding. The Valkyrie did not pause to assess the damage, intent on Brahms' neck. He maneuvered them so that he could slash open her back, drawing her blood for the first time. The Valkyrie screamed, staggered by the pain. Brahms was on her in an instant, taking her neck as he held her from behind. 

It was a rush, an exhilaration to taste divine blood once more. Brahms groaned and greedily drank, even as the Valkyrie screamed and flailed, trying to drive her sword behind her. It stabbed into his side, Brahms howling in pain. His distraction allowed the Valkyrie to tear free of his arms, her neck brutally savaged in the process. Only her divinity allowed her to still live, the Valkyrie staring at him, her sword arm trembling. She had known how close to death she had come, and it made her wary of Brahms.

Even worse, she was still bleeding. Both from her neck and her back. Brahms would growl, intent on her. The Valkyrie would slash her sword at his face, Brahms throwing up his arms for protection. By the time the sword finished slashing open his skin, the Valkyrie was gone. Brahms growled, turning this way and that way, waiting for an attack that would not come. To Silmeria's shock, the Valkyrie had withdrawn from the fight. 

Brahms would not see this particular Valkyrie again. Nor would he return to Midgard any time soon. He didn't dare to, not with a divine threat of the Valkyrie safe guarding the realm. The blood he had tasted, was just barely enough to heal him from the wounds Brahms had received at her sword. He knew he would need more powerful blood before he could stand a chance against the battle maiden.

But there was nothing in Nifleheim but the demons. And their blood was a poor substitute for humans and Gods. Brahms thought he would forever be forced to wallow in the underworld, the man wandering the realm aimlessly. He was a predator to be feared, feeding off any demons, big or small, that drew too near. He no longer had to hide under Yggsdrasil, no longer content to wallow and wait for scavengers to draw near.

Nifleheim is a vast realm. It would take decades for one to travel from one end to the other. Brahms felt he had nothing but time to explore, the vampire traveling the land, hoping vainly, to find something to prey on besides the demons. Something infinitely more nourishing. He had nothing but time on his hands, and that left him to think about things. He still longed for vengeance against Odin, wanting to avenge all the wrongs the God had committed. But he didn't know how, didn't stand a chance weakened as he was. Brahms needed to secure a consistent, and sustaining food source. Only then could he grow his strength, and maybe make a push to topple Odin from his throne.

It was a terrible way to live. It was a BORING way to exist. And yet there was nothing left to him, Brahms constantly on the move. His own feeding was dwindling down the numbers of demons in the area, the creatures fleeing to other parts of Nifleheim. Brahms followed after them, determined not to give up his only sustenance. Silmeria sensed he kept hoping if he drank enough demon blood, he would eventually get strong enough to make another attempt on the Valkyrie who guarded Midgard.

Sometimes the thought of the Valkyrie's blood was the only thing that kept him motivated. Brahms wanted to finish her, to drink down every drop of her nourishing blood. To take her power into him. He wouldn't stop once he was sated, he'd gorge himself on her blood. Other times he thought he would make the Valkyrie his prisoner, keep her on the cusp of death, drinking from her nightly. 

It was obscene how much those thoughts aroused him. But Brahms was through being ashamed, at least where an emissary of Odin's was concerned. Sometimes he dreamt of draining the Valkyrie dry, and leaving her corpse at Odin's feet. Of killing the God before Odin could recover from his shock. Dark fantasies driven by his need for vengeance filled him, sometimes providing the only brief glimpses of joy Brahms could take out of his situation.

This was how his days passed, the same thought patterns and events repeating themselves. Silmeria began to get bored, wondering when a change would come. Brahms would feed on demons, and think his plots, reveling in his fantasies. No end seemed in sight, not until they heard a woman shrieking in pain. The first shriek, both Brahms and Silmeria thought he had imagined it. After all, Brahms had been thinking about the Valkyrie, and what he would do to the goddess.

But the shriek sounded again, the voice near constant. She was passed the point of begging, of speaking words. She could only voice the pain through her screams. Laugher, masculine and otherworldly sounded in response to the screams. Along with a determined grunting, a twisted, pleasured sound. Silmeria felt her stomach drop, she did not want to see what was being done to the woman. Not when Silmeria was already sure she could guess. 

But Brahms was moving, drawn by the sounds. Even as he moved, he thought he recognized the woman's voice. Silmeria's dread continued to build, she wanted to turn away, to shut her eyes from whatever they were about to be shown. But Brahms wasn't looking away, his eyes wide open as he stalked through the underbrush. The screams would grow louder, the shrieking voice more familiar than ever.

Brahms did not say anything, just moved quicker. He burst into a crowded clearing, several of the largest demons he had ever seen standing around something. The woman's voice came from the center of that group, along with the grunting sound of a male pleasuring himself. Almost in a trance, Brahms moved towards the group. Silmeria didn't know what the demons thought. Did they assume Brahms was like them, here to take pleasure from the victim they had in their possession? Whatever the case, the demons parted, enough for Brahms to catch sight of the   
naked woman.

She was bound to a boulder, chains crossed all over body. Her legs had been spread, chains wound around her ankles to keep her exposed in that position. He saw the perfect profile of her face, saw the long hair that cascaded over the rock. She was screaming, writhing in pain as the large demon rutted over her. Such was his size, he was all but splitting her apart, hurting her as he took his pleasure.

It wasn't just enough for the demon to rape the goddess. He was running his claws over one side of her body, drawing her blood. The blood's scent made any sense he had had, leave Brahms, the vampire losing rationality as he screamed. He attacked the demon on top of the Goddess, ripped him brutally out of her. The other demons reacted with surprise and anger, moving to attack Brahms. One was fool enough to try and take his place between the Goddess' legs, Brahms lurching towards him, tearing his head off in a brutal show of strength.

It was not the hunger driving him, nor was his mindless. This was more akin to a beserker's rage, Brahms so incensed by who had been made the victim of the demons. His memories became hazy, all Silmeria could see was blood everywhere, his claws drenched in them as Brahms killed each and every one of the Goddess' tormentors.

Brahms was left panting, breathing heavily from exertion. All the demons were dead, their heads torn off, or their bodies ripped open. His was soaked in blood, his clothing ruined by it. But he didn't care, wishing he could kill the demons again. He was still so murderous, so full of rage and indignation over what he had seen. And then the whimper of sound reach through to him, the Goddess trying to muffle her shrieks by biting down on her lip.

Ever so slowly, Brahms turned towards her. The chains still held her prisoner, he could see the runes inscripted on the metal. The runes were words of power, stripping the Goddess of her abilities. She had been rendered into nothing more than a plaything for the demons, an outlet for their lusts and cruelty. Brahms saw now just how cruel they had truly been, one side of her once perfect body ruined by claw marks and burns.

With her powers subdued by the chains, the Goddess hadn't been able to heal her injuries. They had scarred her, left a permanent mark of the torture she had been through. Brahms felt his own heart hurting, his murderous haze fading somewhat to sadness. He didn't know how the Goddess had come to suffer this fate, but Brahms suspected Odin had a hand in it.

Hel was still trying not to scream, her lip bleeding from her efforts. Silmeria felt Brahms damn himself, the man feeling guilt that he wanted to taste that blood. And yet he couldn't stay away, had to go near her long enough to free the Goddess. Her frightened eyes watched his every move. She looked as though she expected more abuse from him, and Brahms could do nothing to reassure her. Not so long as her blood's scent was in his nose.

His shaking hands reached for the chains. He could not break them. Not without more powerful blood in him. Brahms knew what he had to do, but never had he found the idea as distasteful as now. How could he feed on her, after she had been so violated and tormented by demons? But to leave her now, would only invite more of those monsters to come torture her.

He had no choice. Brahms realized that. "Hel, I am sorry." Brahms told her, over her screams. He bent over her, trying to look nowhere but at her neck. Like the rest of her body, one side was unmarked. But the side he had so often fed from, it's scars were lost to the new ones the demons had given her. But he couldn't bring himself to feed on the perfect side, Brahms sinking his fangs into her as gently as he could.

Hel screamed the entire time he fed. She was too far gone to enjoy the act, to out of it to be aware that it was not a demon but her once betrothed who fed on her. Her mind might be irrevocably damaged, there might be nothing that could bring the goddess back from insanity's grasp. It was a worry that kept Brahms from enjoying her blood, the vampire taking only enough from Hel to gain the strength needed to break her chains.

She would immediately try to run from him. Brahms would easily catch her, holding her against him. Hel would break down once she realized she couldn't get away. She wept into his chest, shaking as he ran his claws through her hair in a soothing manner. Hel never once spoke, not even to curse and damn him. No amount of coaxing could calm her, Hel broken in the moment.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	35. Thirty Five

Sometimes Brahms wondered if it wouldn't have been more merciful to kill Hel. To end the torture her existence had become, to free her from the horrors Hel's mind forced her to relive. Again and again, the nightmares coming whether she was awake or not. The months following his rescue of Hel was a rough period in both their lives. The Goddess was broken, her mind and manner childlike. She was fragile, the slightest thing could set off her upset. Hel often existed in two modes, one where she was constantly screaming. The other times, she was weeping, crying endless tears. Rare was the time when she was quiet, and those times worried Brahms most of all, even as they gave him a much needed break from Hel's hysterics.

Brahms often had to remind himself that Hel had a right to be hysterical. She had been tortured most cruelly, a victim of both physical and sexual abuse that had left long lasting scars on both her mind and body. He needed to be patient with her. Caring. But many days when the stress got to be too much, he thought about killing her. It shamed him to think that way, but never as much as the fact that he hungered for a relief from the burdens Hel placed upon him.

In saving the Goddess, he had bound them together all the more tightly. Hel was linked to him, her very fate, her very existence dependent on Brahms. She needed his protection, needed his patience and care. She was incapable of caring for herself. If let alone she would have surely ended up right back in a similar situation with a different set of demons.

Hel was not just a broken shell of her former self. It was as though she had been transformed. She no longer was capable of using her abilities, neither to protect herself or to care for herself. Brahms had given up his tattered, blood stained shirt to her, not wanting the Goddess to go around nude for any longer than necessary. Sometimes he thought it good she couldn't call up her ether. And all because he had a feeling Hel would have turned that divine energy on him just as easily as she could have used it on demons.

Sometimes he thought Hel could not tell him apart from the very demons that had hounded her. She was as scared of Brahms as of anyone else in the underworld. He supposed he couldn't blame her. He had fed off her. Even worse, he continued to do so, all the while telling himself it was merely payment for his protection. But the truth was Brahms was addicted to Hel's blood, to the very divinity that had allowed her to withstand the torture that had ruined one half of her body.

She often tried to run from him. When her attempts to flee became more cunning, the Goddess waiting until Brahms had settled down to rest, it gave him hope that something of the old Hel still existed inside her. It might be buried deep, lost amidst the horrors she had been through. Brahms did not know the full extent of her tortures, or the reason why she had been chained down in Nifleheim in the first place. He didn't even know how long she had been imprisoned, though Brahms' fear was that it had been a long time indeed.

There was no answers coming from Hel. Not at this time. Maybe they would never come. But some days she didn't scream quite as much as Hel normally did, giving Brahms hope. It might be a false hope, but he held onto it all the same.

He continued his journey through the underworld, hunting demons with Hel his reluctant companion. At first he was merely intent on killing any and all he could get his hands on, wanting to make them suffer for what had been done to Hel. He certainly didn't need to feed, not with Hel existing as his steady food source. But Brahms wasn't satisfied with this kind of lifestyle. He didn't want to stay in the underworld, didn't want to just aimlessly wander as he built up his power reserves by drinking Hel's blood on a daily basis.

The demon hunting was serving a purpose, though Brahms did not realize it then. Silmeria though did, the former Valkyrie noting Brahms was becoming better at killing. He no longer had to call on the parasite within him, no longer had to go mindless with anger. He was quicker, more efficient, and his skill was increasing by leaps and bounds. At this rate, the underworld would end up empty, Brahms succeeding in killing off the demons quicker than they could reproduce.

For a long time he continued this way, killing demons indiscriminately. There was no one to protect them from Brahms, no God or Goddess for them to pray to. The demons were the unwanted dregs of creation, cruel beings who thrived on evil and others' suffering. That incident with Hel was just one example of the depravity they were capable of, and Brahms often shuddered as he thought what the demons could be capable of if someone were to organize them into a cohesive group.

He'd nearly claw his own face off when Brahms realized that HE could take advantage of the demons that remained in the underworld. He'd have to stop killing them, or at the very least stop killing most of them. Some of the more powerful demons simply couldn't be tolerated to still exist. But the lesser ones? Brahms thought he could bully them into following him. Into making   
him their leader. 

It wasn't a simple plan to enact. He would have to get together with a group of them long enough to impress upon them the benefits of following his rule. But he thought it was possible, after all he had seen the demons unite to take turns torturing Hel. The same could be done now, Brahms making a deal with them. Their loyalty, such as it was, in exchange for their lives.

Brahms' decision would set off a great battle in the underworld. The demons weren't eager to be ruled, especially not by the monster who had slaughtered so many of their kind. Silmeria saw many fights, many brutal battles between Brahms and the various demons who tried to rebel against his mastery of them. But Brahms was fueled by the divine blood of the Goddess, Hel's vitality his, along with his righteous fury. He was determined to see this through, to craft the start of his armies.

It wasn't always an easy victory for him, the fights sometimes taking their tolls on him. Brahms was feeding more than ever off of Hel, the Goddess enduring this with little more than resigned whimper. She had after all become accustomed to his feeding off of her by this point.

In the quiet moments, Silmeria would watch as Brahms sat in some hidden alcove. Hel would be resting against his front, sitting between his spread legs. He'd whisper reassurances to her, telling her how he would use the demons to make the one responsible for her torture pay. He still had no concrete proof that it had been Odin, but who else could it have been? Who else would dare seal away a Goddess' powers, and leave her at the mercy of lusty demons?

The demons continued to rebel. They seemed to prefer to die rather than suffer under Brahms' rule. It frustrated him, Brahms often gnashing his teeth as a sign of his annoyance. He knew if he had retained his divine abilities, the power he had once wielded would have been enough to bring the demons to heel. Hel could have done it in his place, but not so long as she was mindless. Not so long as she couldn't even call upon her powers to clothe herself.

The lesser demons should have been no problem. The scavengers should have fallen in line, fearing Brahms. But they looked to the larger demons for protection, and those beings were roughly the same size as Brahms if not bigger. The large demons were refusing to give in, and influencing the other weaker, more cowardly creatures from aligning with Brahms.

How long had he been fighting? How long had Brahms tried to subdue the demons through brute force? It was difficult to beat them without it resulting in their deaths. Brahms was all too powerful, the parasite within him all too eager for the kills. It cared nothing for his ambitions, was satisfied so long as he had Hel to feed his blood cravings. 

Hel had entered into a silent phase. No more screams did she utter, no more tears did she weep. She just kept quiet, her eyes seeming to take in everything around her. Brahms did not know what to make of this. Was she getting better, or worse? He did not know. But he kept on fighting and feeding, trying to get his army. Telling himself the legions of demons would protect Hel instead of hurt her. He'd make them, force them to treat Hel with the care and respect deserving of a Queen.

Silmeria felt a shiver at those thoughts. If she had been awake, her eyes surely would have widened. Was Brahms responsible for Hel's rule over the underworld? It was surprising, but not as much as it once would have been. She had already seen so much, more memories and experiences than she could possible process in one sitting. Why shouldn't Brahms be the one to carve out Hel's underworld empire? But she still had many questions, wondering just how the Goddess would regain enough of her senses to become the cruel queen the Valkyries were so familiar with.

Brahms was often worried. And not just about Hel's mental state, and the difficulty in getting the demons to unify and obey him. He worried over the one responsible for the horrors done to Hel. Worried that Odin would come to check on his handiwork. If he did, he would be expecting one of two things. Hel to either still be chained to that rock, a victim of the demons, or Hel having succumbed to the torture, and died at the demons hands. Either way, Odin would not be pleased to discover Hel was free. More than ever, they needed that army for protection. 

Even if they got that army, Brahms felt he could never truly leave Hel alone. Not among the demons, not in her present state of mind. If she was left alone, the demons would be quick to take advantage of her vulnerable state. It left Brahms stuck with her, forever duty bound to see to the Goddess' care. He hated the moments when he despaired over that duty, but Brahms had his own sense of honor. It was that honor that kept him with Hel, taking care of her needs, and feeling ashamed of how he preyed on her.

Hel was a weakness. Silmeria knew it, Brahms knew it, and the demons knew it too. His acts to unify them were beginning to work, but it was not Brahms who they named leader. A demon name Azrieth took command. He would organize the demons, a plot being concocted. A plot to strike at Brahms' one weakness, his source of power. They would attack in unprecedented numbers, striving to separate the vampire from the Goddess.

For a time it worked, Brahms being driven further and further from where he had left Hel. The Goddess was in a stage where she would not move unless prodded, Hel silent as she studied her surroundings. Brahms' enraged bellows could be heard once he realized what the demons were up to. There were all around him and ON him, little scavengers clinging to his body, biting down to bleed and tear out chunks of his flesh. 

As quickly as he threw them off him, more would jump on him. And all the while he had to do battle with the larger creatures. Silmeria froze when Brahms let out his most tortured scream, the vampire realizing he had lost sight of Hel. She felt his fear for the Goddess, felt Brahms ready to blame himself for any torture that befell Hel. He even cursed himself for not being the one to end her life, Brahms thinking that was the only thing he could have done to truly protect her from the demons.

Even as he cursed and held himself responsible for what was surely about to happen to Hel, Brahms continued to fight. Tearing apart demons with his claws, hauling the little scavengers off his back, and throwing them like they were projectiles. He roared and bellowed, but was losing blood. His body was trying to heal, and in the process expending energy. He'd need to feed, and had no reliable food source available to him so long as Hel was stolen from him.

Even as his vision started to grow hazy, blurring, he continued to fight. Snarling, turning feral. The demons were worse, lips drawn back to reveal sharp, jagged teeth that couldn't hurt as badly as Brahms' fangs did. His claws tore apart flesh, even as the demons tried to rend him apart with their own nails. And then amidst it all, he heard an unnatural scream. It was like nothing he had ever heard, and even the demons stopped to look.

A burst of divine energy came flying towards the group around Brahms. It didn't just strike demons, some of the energy rebounded into Brahms. It sent them all flying, mini explosions of dirt erupting around them. And then another blast of divine energy took out another group of demons, Brahms staggering upright in time to see the one who had wielded the attack. He felt his jaw drop, Brahms blinking in disbelief. 

The Goddess Hel stood across the field, glowing globes of dark purple energy in her hands. The center of the orbs crackled with green lighting, the globes growing in size as she studied the remaining demons. The demons were torn between attacking and fleeing, eyeing the Goddess who was surrounded by the burnt remains of bodies. Brahms did not know what to make of this. Had Hel's abduction roused her to the point she was coherent? He was too far away to see her eyes, and that chilled him all the more. Brahms did not want to think of a broken mind wielding Hel's power.

The moment of indecision ended, several demons lunging towards Hel with outraged shrieks. Did the fools actually think they could take her down? Eerily, with no hint of expression to her face, Hel thrust the globes of power in the direction of the attacking demons. They died, still shrieking their anger, bodies turned to powder. The rest of the demons either fell to their knees to beg for mercy, or attempted to flee. Hel would blast apart the ones who ran, and then begin to weave into the crowd. Brahms struggled to retain consciousness, but it was a losing battle. Hel's approach was the last thing he saw, Brahms desperate to see her eyes, even as he toppled face forward into the dirt.

How long did he sleep? Silmeria came away with the sense that he was unconscious only for a few hours at most. Brahms would wake up with a groan, muscles protesting when he suddenly shot straight up from his reclining position. Dead demons were all around him. He was barely in better shape, feeling as though he was one foot in the grave from how rotten he felt. Silmeria could feel he was hungry, and it was a shocking feeling. All because both she and Brahms had gotten used to his hunger being satisfied from his constant meal of Hel's blood.

He frowned, and started to look around. He spied her on a nearby rock. His eyes widened, Brahms noting Hel had taken the time to materialize a dress to replace the tattered shirt she had been wearing. She looked better than he could remember seeing in recent years, Hel clean, her hair tangle free. She sat in a rock, but her bearing was so regal, as though she sat on the finest of thrones. 

She was staring at him, still as a statue. As though waiting for him to say something. Brahms felt the parasite rear it's head, urging him to go to her, to take her as was his right. But the corpses around him weren't all by Brahms' hand. He remembered the power Hel had wielded. The power she might unleash against him, should he go for her neck.

"Hel." Brahms said, cautiously moving, slow and steady. He was trying not to make any sudden movements, not wanting to give her an excuse to attack. "Are you...are they..." He couldn't figure out what to say to her, the situation seeming unreal. "Are you all right?" Hel's head tilted, as though she didn't understand the question. "Did they hurt you?" Brahms said, inching towards her. 

"Many have hurt me." She finally spoke. Her voice had a childish ring to it, sounding distorted from her normal tones. "The demons, Odin....you."

Guilt flashed through him. Brahms struggled to ignore it. "Odin? Then HE was responsible for chaining you down here?!"

"I've been a bad girl." Hel retorted. "I've been consorting with monsters. I had to be punished. I had to be made to suffer for my sins."

"The only monster you've willingly dealt with is me." Brahms said, disturbed but angry by her words. He had a feeling she was repeating what someone had told her. That someone was probably Odin.

"Yes. You." Hissed Hel. "Because of you I was hurt...because of you I was tortured...." Ether crackled over her, the energy looking like purple lightning. 

I was not the one who chained you to that rock." Brahms was quick to remind her. "I was not the one who left you to the demons..." Her eyes flashed with confusion, some of the energy's intensity lowering. "Hel, can you tell me what happened?"

Her head tilted again, her lips frowning as though Hel was struggling to remember. He almost held his breath, mentally willing her to remember. Brahms had not realized it then, but such a strong thought in his head, directed towards one he had bound to him with blood? It was as good as giving an order, his compulsion manifesting, forcing Hel to remember.

Hel visibly flinched, hands tightening into fists on her lap. The ether bolts of lightening continued to crackle over her form, increasing in speed and intensity. They were reacting to her emotions, to the pain she was experiencing as Hel remembered everything. Her eyes fluttered quickly, he thought she might faint before Hel could tell him anything.

"I remember..." She spoke slowly, still in that childish tone. Hel would actually grimace, shaking her head no as though she was fighting off the memories. 

"What do you remember?" Brahms asked her, his voice turning as insistent as his thoughts. "Tell me."

Her eyes seemed to flash a different color. She'd narrowed them at him, as though incensed by his request. "You were sick...dying...we all thought you would die...all of us, even you."

"Yes, I remember that..." Brahms agreed. "But I didn't die. I lived...thanks in part to you."

"Thanks in part to what you took from me." Hel corrected him. "You hurt me...you tore into my flesh, and drank of my blood...I think you would have killed me then if he hadn't interfered."

"Odin..."

"Odin." Hel agreed. "You two fought...he thought you died, torn apart and eaten by the demons. There was no way you should have been strong enough to survive them, after that fall...."

"But you knew better." Brahms said.

"Yes." Hel agreed. "You called to me...you let me feel your great pain, and the hunger you were suffering through..." She frowned. "Why couldn't you leave me alone? None of this would have happened if I had never gone to the underworld. He would have never have needed to punish me if I hadn't continued to feed you!"

"He...who is he?" Brahms would not speak a name, wanting Hel to come up with it on her own. She hesitated long enough for his impatience to flare. "Tell me Hel."

".....Odin..." She finally whispered, fearful and cringing as though she expected to be struck down at any moment. "He discovered what I was doing, who I was going to see..."

"And he punished you for it..."

"He was so angry..." Hel shuddered. "I tried to protect you even then. Tried to deny who I had been seeing. But the marks remained...he could see my skin retained fresh bite marks." She was beginning to cry, lifting her hands to cover and hide her face from him. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, Hel weeping. "I tried to hide you...to deny you were in the underworld...I would not make it easy for him to find you...Nifleheim is a vast realm...it would take him months if not years to find you on his own..." 

"Hel..." Brahms began to cautiously approach her. He could not deny he wanted to feed, but in the moment he was trying to ignore that need in order to see to comforting the Goddess.

"I should have told him what he wanted to know!" Hel suddenly screamed, ether slamming into his chest. "None of this would have happened if not for you! I would have never...never been...been used by those monsters!"

Brahms managed not to scream, slamming back against a tree. "Hel!" She threw more energy at him, her face wet with streaked tears. "Hel listen to me..."

"It's all your fault!" She raged. "If not for you, I would still be in Asgard. I would not be banished from the heavens!" 

Her words staggered him as much as the energy slamming into him, Brahms gasping. "Banished?!"

"He will never let me return! Never! Even if I kill you, I am no longer fit for the heavens! I am no longer pure but tainted. Corrupted by the likes of you and the demons here!" Hel screamed. "I am ruined! You have ruined me!" 

He screamed this time, the energy hitting him harder. She seemed to be pouring all her strength, all her energy into the attack, willing to kill herself along with Brahms. She continued to rant, saying there was nothing left for her. Nothing at all. She as well as Brahms had seen the beauty of the heavens, and knew no other realm could compare with Asgard. 

Brahms groaned in pain, writhing in agony from Hel's assault. For one brief instant he was mindless, unable to think of anything but the pain the Goddess was inflicting on him. He barely managed to speak, but when he did it was a command. "Hel stop!" 

To his shock she did, the ether stopping just like that. Hel stood a few feet away from him, seeming frozen in place. Her ether crackled over her form, and her face wore a grimace. Her tears were falling, and she seemed to be trembling. Struggling with the effort to break free of his compulsion.

Brahms was confused. "Why did you stop?" He demanded. "Why didn't you finish me off?"

"I...want to." Hel admitted. "But I can't!"

"Why can't you?" Brahms asked, rising cautiously to his knees. He didn't dare think she still held affection for him. Not after all she had been through, a lot of which he had put into motion with that first bite.

"Because...you told me to stop." Hel said. Silmeria sensed Brahms still didn't understand. 

"It's just that easy?" It wasn't an easy question to answer, Hel just glaring at him hatefully. "Do you have to do whatever I say?"

"Yes." Hel gritted out through clenched teeth. Silmeria felt Brahms' surprise, the vampire rising to walk cautiously towards Hel. 

"Anything at all?" A terse nod from Hel. Brahms decided to test it out. "Stand on one leg, and hop in place." Glaring at him, Hel did as he asked. Her movements were awkward, her long dress hardly ideal for this activity. Brahms did not smile at her antics, still wary of this revelation. "Why? Why are you compelled to do as I ask?"

"Because of your bite..." Hel said, still hopping. "You've damned me with it..."

"You can stop hopping now." Brahms told her absentmindedly. He was considering her words, marveling over the power he might command as a side effect of his binding Hel to him. He'd need other people to test this power out on, Brahms wondering if he could command the demons through his bite. But he didn't yet know how he had succeeded in binding Hel so thoroughly to him. Experiments would have to be done, but now wasn't the time.

"Hel...for what has been done to you...and what I have been responsible for....I am truly sorry. For all of it." Brahms told her sincerely. She just glared at him, showing no willingness to accept his apology. "I never meant to do any of this to you. I just wanted to live. To live long enough to avenge the crimes Odin has committed. Crimes Odin continues to add to. I may have set into motion much of what has happened to you, but Odin has a hand in it too. If he never turned a greedy eye on the throne of Creation...none of this would have happened to either of us."

"It doesn't excuse you!" Hel hissed. "You will never earn forgiveness from me...even if you command me to say otherwise! Your hands are as dirty as Odin's!"

"I know that..." Brahms was inching towards her. "But I can try to make it up to you...."

"You can never make it up to me..." She scoffed. Her eyes were frightened, she didn't like   
that Brahms was approaching.

"I can never." He agreed. "But I can help you..."

"How?!"

"By setting up a base of power for you. A kingdom of sorts." Brahms explained. "I will get you an army...between you and I, the demons will fall into line. They will protect you....Odin will never be able to harm you again...."

"And what price will you ask for this army, this kingdom?" Hel demanded. His eyes were involuntarily drawn to her neck. It made Hel scream, her struggles becoming more apparent. "NO!"

"I need strength, Hel." Brahms told her, tone level. "I need YOUR strength if we are to do this." She continued to scream, shaking her head wildly. "Just a bite Hel. That's all I ask...all I need..."

"It will never end with just one bite..." Hel moaned, even as Brahms was pulling her into his arms. "You are a leech...you will continue to take from me....all to serve your own selfish ends..."

Her words hurt him, but they weren't enough to stop Brahms from biting her. He tried to be gentle, but Hel was starting to thrash about as best she could. It forced him to hold her steady, his bite growing rougher as he began feeding, replenishing all the strength he had lost in the battle with the demons. It was apparent to Silmeria that the days of Hel being a willing, or at least docile blood donor were at an end. 

Hel had been broken at the hands of the demons. The things done to her were something she might never recover completely from. But it had given her back one part of herself. The part that had made her a near mindless blood slave to Brahms. Now she was only too conscious of what he was doing to her, and Hel HATED it. She hated him, alternating between screaming and weeping bitter tears. Brahms would never gain her compliance in this act again, he could only force her to hold still for his bite, Hel glaring and fighting against the compulsion all the while.

Not even the knowledge that Brahms would build Hel a kingdom of her own, one designed to protect her from Odin, could appease the Goddess. She wanted nothing to do with Brahms, at times retreating into her mind. She was a silent companion, keeping much of her thoughts to herself though she always became most vocal when Brahms' hunger reared.

Silmeria would sit back and watch, as Brahms, together with the Goddess, set about forming a kingdom for Hel to rule. He'd fight many demons, and use his compulsion on Hel to force her to help him subdue the denizens of the underworld. It would take time, and many beatings before the remaining demons reluctantly kneeled before Hel. By this time the most powerful of the demons had been exterminated, killed by Brahms' own hands.

Sometimes, during the lull between battles, Brahms would experiment with his bite. There were a few strong looking demons that he didn't kill right away. Instead he drew out their lives, feeding off their foul blood. All in an attempt to repeat the blood bond he had inadvertently forged with Hel so many centuries ago. He was not successful. The demons merely withered from being fed on, slowly but surely dying. Brahms began to wonder if the blood bond needed something more, needed some kind of connection with the person one was feeding off of. Or maybe the demons were unsuitable because they didn't hold a spark of divinity in them. He simply did not know, lacking much when it came to finding out about the parasite that had changed him.

Hel was also experimenting. Taking demons, and twisting about their very nature. Sometimes Brahms would find her covered in their blood, Hel having thrown a tantrum when the results of her experiments were not to her liking. Other times he'd find her nearly smiling, petting some new type of creature. He didn't understand at first why she bothered, Hel making the first monsters to exist in Creation that weren't purely demons. 

Silmeria watched as through Hel's experiments, the first of the many types of undead monsters were created. All at the Goddess' hands. They retained the demon's cruelty, their lust for torture. But these monsters were a different breed, and though they had desires of their own, Hel's will superseded theirs. 

It wasn't until Hel had created over a hundred different types of undead, that her true intent became known. She wanted revenge. On Odin, even on Brahms. The latter she had no hope of contesting, Brahms firmly keeping her under control through his compulsions. He feared for her. It was that fear that kept him from allowing her to go challenge Odin directly. It was simply too early, too soon, their power too little. HIS power was still not enough, Brahms sure that even with the backing of the demons and Hel's undead creatures, they would be beaten by Odin.

Hel was frustrated, and lashing out. She wanted action, wanted to take revenge and now. Sometimes she'd try to use her undead creatures against Brahms. That was how they discovered that Brahms could command them too, and all because of the blood bond he had forged with Hel. Through the Goddess, he could take command of her undead legions, steal them away from Hel without the Goddess even being able to voice a single complaint.

He didn't. Brahms let her have her armies, let her continue to make more undead creatures. He only exerted his power over them to keep them from attacking him. Sometimes he helped train them, preparing them and the demons for the war they would eventually wage. 

Hel wasn't satisfied to wait. She kept on experimenting, and then sending those experiments into other realms. Brahms did not know this at first, and when he found out he was aghast. He thought Hel was risking everything by releasing her creatures into the realms. Hel didn't agree, eager for Odin to take note of what they were doing. She was especially proud of the havoc they were wrecking on Midgard. They were preying on the humans, eating their flesh and blood, sometimes infecting them. The undead were expanding in size, at an alarming rate. It was no wonder that eventually Odin would take notice.

Hel was unrepentant. She had remembered that the humans had been Odin's special project. It made her hate the humans. Made her want to torture them. She reveled in the pain and misery her undead creatures were causing, the turmoil and strife. It was as though she was making the humans pay for what Odin and the demons had done to her all those centuries ago.

It couldn't continue. Odin would not allow it. The first true war of Creation was set to occur, Silmeria fascinated by what she was learning. The Valkyrie would be called into play, the women all descendants of the first Valkyrie that Brahms had done battle with. She had been injured during the fight with the vampire. Injured to the point she had been unable to return to the heavens. Denied Asgard, she had accepted the next best thing, making the most of her remaining life on Midgard. There had been a human, a mortal man and somehow the Valkyrie had deigned to birth a few daughters for him. 

Those same daughters had been imbued with the Valkyries' powers and immortality. They had all become lesser deities, and remained on Midgard to safe guard it from any threats. Brahms had been wise not to return to the realm of humans, because the Valkyries would have been waiting. Would have been ready to finish what their mother had started. 

Those Valkyrie maidens had been dealing with the press of Hel's undead. But there was too many, the Valkyrie only a small handful in comparison. Too many humans were dying, Odin being forced to act to prevent his pet race from being wiped out completely. He'd call upon the humans who fought with the Valkyries, those brave few who ultimately died in battle with the undead. Rather than reincarnate them, he gave them a new chance, a new mission. They became einherjar, fighting for the honor of the heavens.

It took time for a true army of Asgard to be amassed. More humans died, some preyed on, others changing into the very monsters they feared. But there was a few who died a warrior's death, and those were the ones who made up the army the Valkyries used to invade the underworld. Silmeria would watch as a most brutal battle took place, demons and undead fighting against the Valkyrie and the einherjar.

It would last for over a thousand years. Neither side able to take a deciding victory. It seemed the war would never end, seemed the fighting was destined to last all eternity. Even to this day, the war might have continued, if not for a meeting between Hel and Odin. It was a secret meeting, one Brahms had not been privy to until after it was all over. 

Silmeria felt and echoed his confusion when the combatants began to withdraw from the fighting. A truce had been reached, one that had the Valkyries and their einherjar leaving the underworld. But it was grudging withdrawal, the battle maidens not happy to leave. Brahms wasn't any happier, confused and seeking out Hel. He'd find her in Eljudnir, the castle Brahms had had the demons build for her. 

Seated upon her throne, Hel was playing with a faintly glowing object. It was a pale blue that was nearly white, and was constantly changing shape under the play of Hel's hands. She was looking not at the thing in her hands, but staring absentmindedly off in the distance. She didn't immediately come back to her senses, not even when Brahms growled her name.

"Hel!" He frowned at her, wondering what that was that she played with. "The Valkyrie are withdrawing from the battle. As is our own forces." When she said nothing, he stepped towards her, wanting to grab her by the arms and shake her back to reality. 

His approach drew her attention to him, Hel blinking rapidly. She didn't look surprised to see him, just continuing to massage new shapes into the object.

"What's going on?" demanded Brahms. "Why have you called back our armies?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "We should be pushing to chase after the Valkyrie. We should finish them now, while they attempt to flee!"

"And what purpose would that serve?" Hel asked. "If we pursue the Valkyrie, they will stand and fight. It will only continue this war."

"So be it. The war cannot end without one side victorious. We must see that our side is the winners."

"And what if we are not?" Hel demanded sharply. "What if you press us to fight, and then we lose? Do you dare imagine what Odin will do to us then?" Brahms said nothing, watching as Hel shuddered. It was clear she had imagined it all too vividly, the kind of torture and punishment Odin would inflict on the losers. "Brahms...we cannot go on as we have...."

"We cannot stop either." He argued. "Odin would see us dead..."

"Odin is as tired of this war as we are." Hel told him. He snorted at that, hardly believing what she said. "He wants peace..."

"He will never have it." Brahms vowed. "So long as he draws breath, I will continue to hound him. It won't end until he is dead. I won't give up until I have killed him."

"You'll never get close enough to him to end Odin's existence." Hel retorted. "He's too protected, too safe in the heavens. His Valkyries alone are a formidable power. It is those women who have kept the war going for as long as it has. Those Goddesses who have kept us from seizing victory."

"They may be Goddesses, but they can still die." Argued Brahms. He had by this time, fed off several of the Valkyries, gaining brief bursts of power from their blood. "If I feed off enough of them..."

"You will never get strong that way." Snapped Hel. "The power you get from the Valkyries is a temporary thing at best. Unless you have a steady supply of Valkyrie blood, you'll never be able to face Odin and win."

"I'm not just reliant on the Valkyries' blood for strength." Protested Brahms. "I've gotten stronger...."

"You've gotten stronger feeding off of my blood." Hel hissed, eyes narrowed. "But it's still not enough, is it?" 

He kept silent to that. Hel's blood had sustained him for centuries at this point, but it seemed the power in her veins was reaching a limit. Brahms' was working on a theory that he needed to expand his food sources, find other veins to tap if he wanted to continue his growth.

"Don't you tire of this Brahms?" Hel asked. "The endless fighting?"

"Are you talking about the war, or us?" Brahms demanded.

"Both." Hel said after a moment's pause. He didn't answer her, which caused Hel to sigh. "Brahms. Odin has offered a deal."

"As if we could ever trust anything he would give us!" scoffed Brahms.

"I don't trust anyone...not anymore." Hel reminded him. "But I am no fool. We could turn Nifleheim upside down, destroy Midgard, and still Odin would continue. Safe and protected in the heavens. While we? What would we have left? Nothing."

"If he destroys our home here, we will simply move on to another realm." Brahms retorted.

"I am not so quick to pack up and leave." Hel replied. "I have grown fond...of my kingdom."

"Kingdoms can be rebuilt elsewhere." Brahms insisted.

"Perhaps. But they can just as easily fall." She did an exaggerated pull with her hands, letting the glowing object stretch out longer. "Neither option appeals to me."

"But what Odin has offered you does?" Brahms demanded.

"Yes." She suddenly flung the object at Brahms, the vampire throwing up his arms for protection. The object hit him, and Brahms felt the energy shiver through him. But more than that, Brahms thought he picked up on pain, a soul in agony. He gasped, startled.

"Was that a...?"

"A soul." Hel smirked. "A human soul. The first of many." 

"So you are stealing souls now?"

"Not stealing. I've been given them." Hel corrected with another smirk. "It's busy times Brahms. Creation is changing. And human souls need a place to rest..."

Brahms stared at her, Silmeria sensing he wasn't sure he wanted to understand. "What have you done?" He asked.

"Not I." Hel told him. "Odin. Since I so magnanimously agreed to end this war, he has agreed to let me have the remnants of the souls he finds unworthy of his paradise. I'm to see to their punishments, to their rehabilitation."

"Why would he so such a thing? No..." Brahms shook his head. "Why would you agree to such a thing? Don't tell me it's because you are tired of fighting. You LIVE for revenge."

"I still do." Hel smirk widened. "But this will give me a chance to increase my armies. A chance improve upon my soldiers. Even a chance to lull Odin into thinking I've given up on revenge..."

"There has to be more to it then that." Brahms said. He narrowed his eyes at her when Hel tried for a blank look. "What did you really offer him? What did he ask for? Tell me!"

"Just you." Hel hissed. Brahms lunged towards her, hand grabbing her by the throat. She didn't even gasp, just let out a strangled laugh. "Go ahead...kill me if you can. But it won't save you...nothing will..."

"You would betray me?!" He demanded, fighting not to crush her throat in his grip. Hel just smiled, a twisted, mocking expression. It was all the answer he needed, Brahms jerking her up off her seat. His fangs had extended to their full length, Brahms shifting his grip enough so he could plunge them into Hel's neck. She let out a shrill scream, the sound alerting her personal guards to the trouble in the throne room.

Even as he was drinking down Hel's blood, trying to drain her dry for her betrayal, the guards were attacking him. Brahms was forced to let go of the Goddess, Hel staggering away from him. He hadn't come close to draining her, and was now too busy fighting against a press of numerous foes. And more kept coming, demons and monsters rushing into the throne room.

Silmeria watched as Brahms fought in a frenzied, feral state, raging at Hel's betrayal all the while. He only grew more incensed when the Valkyries arrived, the battle maidens intent on capturing Brahms to deliver him to Odin. He'd fight them all, even as Brahms realized his chance to drain Hel dry had passed. He could do only one thing, and that was retreat, Brahms trying to take out as many of his opponents in the process.

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To Be Continued...


	36. Thirty Six

The throne room was crowded with creatures. Demons, undead, even the Valkyries pressing inside to swarm a single opponent. Brahms let out his most angriest of bellows, his hands already moving. His claws were tearing open into anything he could reach, arcs of blood spurting out, spraying onto him and onto others. Silmeria felt his satisfaction with each kill, but never did Brahms lose his anger. And all because he was betrayed, turned against by the very Goddess he had protected for so long.

It mattered not to Brahms that had he had done Hel wrong. Even as he had used her for her blood, Brahms had strove to build her a new home, a kingdom she could rule over. He could barely believe she had become so twisted as to pay him back with betrayal. It made him beyond angry, livid and raging but not yet to the point he'd give over to a beserker's rage.

Silmeria noted with approval that no matter how angry Brahms got, he never once resorted to relying on the parasite to guide his actions. Never did he allow his mind to go blank, to let his fists and fangs be guided by the creature inside him. The creature that only cared about survival and feedings. If the parasite had taken control, Brahms might not have survived. Not with all the opponents around him, all the tempting blood being drawn.

Most tempting of all was that of the Valkyries. Brahms actually regretted the fact that he couldn't stop to dine on one of the battle maidens. But their blood was dangerous, a sweetly seductive meal that would make him drink without stopping. He'd drain every drop, and never stop until the Valkyrie was dead. Right now, with so many enemies about, he couldn't pause for such a meal. To stop and drink down a Valkyrie was to dance to his own death, his enemies killing him even as he killed a battle maiden.

It took great restraint on Brahms' part, the parasite rearing inside him. Growling, lusting for all the blood he was spilling. It felt it a waste, that all that blood was not being consumed. Brahms ignored it's orders, still flush on Hel's own blood. He had taken more than enough to last him through this fight, and Brahms would not waste the chance it gave him.

With a challenging roar, he grabbed hold of a Valkyrie. She struggled against him, eyes flashing with impudent rage. Brahms did not take the time to inhale her scent, did not do anything more than the briefest look at her before the vampire was snapping the Valkyrie's neck. She didn't even make a sound, just went limp in his arms. Another Valkyrie screamed, her anger very real. She swung her battle axe at him, and Brahms used the dead Valkyrie's body to deflect the weapon.

With a sickening squelch, the axe sunk into the Valkyrie's corpse, shattering open her armor. The axe stuck fast to the body, the other Valkyrie having to abandon her preferred weapon. With her eyes flashing her rage, she drew the sword at her side. Brahms threw the corpse from him, the body slamming into a group of demons. The demons fell over, one being pinned beneath the corpse. But it did not panic, instead sinking it's teeth into the dead Valkyrie's neck, trying to feed off her flesh. Others would make a similar attempt on the body.

The remaining Valkyries grew incensed when they saw the demons trying to feed off their sister. They saw it as a violation, and they moved to attack. Fighting broke out between both sides. The truce between them had been a tenuous thing, and when the Valkyries began fighting with the demons, that is when things really got out of hand. The demons were not content to be victims of the Valkyries, the memories of the war that had so recently ended bringing out their battle lusts. Brahms was ALMOST forgotten, as a brawl broke out.

Some of the demons and undead creatures focused on Brahms. But many had their attention divided, fighting any and all they could reach. It was pure chaos, Brahms trying not to laugh as he fought with the Valkyrie who had once wielded an axe. His amusement over the chaos didn't make him careless, Brahms watching the Valkyrie carefully as he tried to avoid the stray attacks that came his way.

The Valkyrie was just as cautious, moving with him. Both her hands gripped her sword's hilt, her eyes narrowed as she looked for an opening to strike against. But Brahms wasn't so unguarded as to give her one. Nor did he let himself get distracted by the enemies who came in reach, though occasionally he would snap a neck and fling that body towards the dodging Valkyrie.

When the two did finally clash together, his claws scraped over the metal of the Valkyrie's armor. Sparks actually came off the metal, Brahms using his one hand to grip the blade of the Valkyrie's sword. The Valkyrie made an annoyed sound, jerking her sword arm back. Brahms smiled, and held onto the sword, actually shattering the blade from the strength in his hand. 

The Valkyrie gasped, and tried to back up. Brahms lunged forward, hand grabbing her by the neck. It was over in an instant, the Valkyrie's throat crushed by his strength. He was so tempted to pull her against him, to sink his fangs into her and feed. But he restrained that impulse, throwing her body into the crowd. Shrieks were heard, the remaining Valkyries indignant to see another one of their sisters being fed upon.

Brahms' gaze sought out Hel's, his eyes narrowing as he realized she had left the throne room. A reckoning between them would have to wait, his own thirst for vengeance needed to be put aside. He needed to get away. 

With that thought in mind, he resumed fighting his way towards the exit. Bodies flew, heads torn off, or skin slashed open. Any who got in his way died, Brahms tearing apart any challengers who would dare try to stop him. That included the Valkyries, a new woman engaging him with hand to hand combat. He fought back, dodging her punches, breaking her left wrist at one point. He was effectively disabling her, practically toying with her, even as Brahms retreated to the throne room's exit.

He had come a long way, his fighting steeped now in mastery. His expertise had come from all those years spent in the underworld, first fighting demons, than waging the thousand year war against Odin's army. He had not wasted time, Brahms learning how to fight, how to kill. He was most efficient, and it showed, his fights with these current Valkyries not at all like that encounter he had had with the very first battle maiden that been called onto Midgard's land all those years ago.

He was one step closer to being the Brahms Silmeria knew, the King who had been the terror of the plains of Idavoll. He would only become that much more dangerous, that more ruthless and effective at fighting in the coming years. Right now he had to call upon every skill learned, every bit of knowledge gleaned as he exited from the throne room. Some of the enemies inside tried to follow him, but most were too busy fighting each other. It did not matter, there was thousands of undead and demons that stood between Brahms and the tunnels that would lead him to Midgard. 

But there weren't anymore Valkyrie. Odin had not seen fit to send more than the handful that had been inside Hel's throne room. As though he had underestimated the challenge Brahms could give. Brahms didn't waste time on being insulted. Let Odin continue to demean his strength, to underestimate him. It would make Brahms victory all the sweeter when he did finally get to face the God in combat.

But first he had to get out of the underworld! The journey would take months, Brahms battling for most of it. Eljudnir had been built in the very heart of the realm, down in the deepest bowels of the underworld. It was no easy feat to come and go from Hel's castle to the mortal plains, Brahms having to journey on foot for hundreds of miles. It would have been a journey made all the simpler if he could teleport, but at that point and time Brahms simply lacked such a skill.

He had to fight nearly every step of the way, demons and undead dogging his every move. There was little time for rest, little time to do anything but fight. Brahms was on constant move, using every skill, every expertise, every sneaky trick to his advantage. It was tiring to fight without true reprieve, but Brahms kept himself fueled on the anger that ran through him. An anger born of Hel's betrayal, Brahms hurting even as he understood why the Goddess might have grown to hate him so bad.

He raged though. His thoughts often furious, harsh whispers in his mind that spoke of the Queen with disdain. He felt more than betrayed, Brahms felt used. As used as Hel had ever been, Brahms knowing he was responsible for the empire she now commanded. An empire she was using against Brahms, turning all her vast resources and minions loose on him.

There was no time for anything but the rage. He couldn't afford deep introspection. Couldn't afford to feel regret or sadness that his association with Hel had soured to this degree. The time for feelings than ran deeper than anger would come, but not until after he escaped Nifleheim and had a moment to catch his breath. Until then, he fought, anger held just above all other emotions.

There was only one thing that could get past the anger. And that was the hunger Brahms was slowly suffering. It was too long a journey to go without a true feeding, too many months passing where he existed on nothing but demons' blood. That foul blood held no power to it, no strength and vitality for him to steal. The demons' blood could only keep him alive for just a little longer, Brahms forcing himself to keep moving. Day dreams of the blood he would taste once upon Midgard's land teased him, Brahms trying to recall the tantalizing taste of the humans.

He did not try to exist solely on demons blood. The first instance of his hunger spiking within him? It had Brahms sending out a powerful compulsion. He called upon Hel, called upon his traitorous blood slave, his fangs aching to sink into her flesh. He wanted--needed to drink from her. Needed to drain as much energy from her as possible. Brahms might have even been willing to keep Hel alive, if only for as long as it would take him to reach Midgard.

But no matter how often and how insistent his compulsions were, the Goddess never appeared. It confused him, Brahms not understanding how Hel could have the strength to now ignore his commands. Nor would he get a real answer, Brahms left to speculate for years about the severance of the link between them. He wouldn't have time to develop a true theory in the underworld. Not with the near constant fighting. But in the future, when he could take a moment to himself? Brahms became certain that Odin was responsible for Hel's resistance. That Odin was the buffer between them, using his own power to break the slave master bond.

It would be a long time before Brahms could explore the repercussions of his blood slave gaining freedom from him. Hel was wisely holding back her monsters, the undead keeping far from Brahms. The demons were more than enough trouble, the creatures persistent and cruel. They were a great drain on Brahms, tiring him out and offering nothing that could truly restore his depleting energy.

By the time Brahms did make it to Midgard, he was weary. But beyond that tiredness, he was starving. It had been too long since he had fed on Hel. Too long since he had had anything but demon's blood for sustenance. He was eager for the chance to feed on something that would do more than just prolong his life. Brahms was eager for the blood than ran in the humans' veins, knowing they were a satisfying in-between of demon and divine blood.

He was not so far gone to hunger that Brahms couldn't be amazed at the changes he saw that had been wrought upon Midgard. The mortals had come a long way in the thousand years that had passed since Brahms last set foot on their land. They no longer hid in caves, no longer dressed in clothing crudely fashioned from pelts of slain animals. They were clean and intelligent, having built several cities. They had developed their language, were beginning to pursue knowledge beyond that which had to do with their day to day living.

They were smarter now, but they were no less prepared this time around than they had been the first time Brahms walked among them. They had no true protection against the undead save for Odin's Valkyrie. They were doubly unprepared for a monster as intelligent as Brahms was. Even pursued as he was, by both Hel and Odin's forces, Brahms found it easy to sneak into the outskirts of the cities. He'd linger there long enough to feed, and then move on, always conscious of those that hunted him.

Hel and Odin's alliance had not yet fallen apart completely. But it was strained, Brahms continued existence a sore point between the two Gods. Hel would try her best to live up to her bargain with Odin. She'd continue to send her demons after Brahms, the creatures intent on finding the vampire, on capturing him. Even at times, attempting to kill him. It wasn't just the denizens of the underworld Brahms had to contend with. Odin had his Valkyries and their einherjar searching the realms, not limiting them to just Midgard's land.

It seemed no realm was safe for Brahms. There was no place he could settle down for long periods of time, the vampire constantly on the move. He'd travel the realms, though he made special effort to avoid Asgard and Nifleheim. And during his travels, he would sample blood of many of the beings in Creation, discovering which ones empowered him, and which ones merely sustained him.

The elves of Alfheim were of a delicious quality. They appeased his hunger, and helped to increase his strength. The giants of Jotunheim were a difficult meal to catch, and their blood was weak, hardly sustaining him. His most favorite taste was that of the divine, of the lesser deities known as Valkyrie. But the power he gained from drinking the battle maidens' blood was short lasting bursts. They were more treat than any long lasting sustenance.

The best blood proved to be that of the humans. The mortals of Midgard while not overly powerful, did sustain him. And he found that over time, he was gaining strength though it wasn't comparable to the power that had infused him with each feeding he had done of Hel's blood. 

It wasn't just the taste of and strength found within the different kinds of blood, that he was experimenting with. He wanted to know if it was possible to make another blood slave, to make a replacement for Hel. Brahms knew there were advantages beyond feeding when it came to blood slaves. Ones that had to do with protection. He needed guards, needed someone to stand watch over his daylight resting places. 

But he didn't know how to repeat what he had done with Hel. And there was no one to teach him, Brahms being the first, the only one of his kind. It would take a lot of trial and error for Brahms to learn how to use compulsion to bind someone so thoroughly to him. Many died in the process, Brahms leaving far too many corpse in his wake. He'd never realize the wrong he was doing, the horrors he was unleashing on the realms.

Through his desperate, repeated feedings, he was creating a new race. But it was not the vampires of the present day and age. Bloodthirsty, constantly killing, they were mindless. Revenants. And they were spreading across the realms like a plague, feeding on the inhabitants, sometimes creating more of their own kind. Brahms was as horrified as anyone else when he saw what he had created. He'd even set to right his wrongs, killing many. Odin's Valkyries were also busy, now actively hunting the revenants instead of Brahms. 

It did not mean that Brahms was safe. There was still Hel's forces to contend with. She was determined to kill him, but her ways were doing almost as much damage as the revenants. The undead were feeding off the people of the realms, infecting them. Their sizes tripled in numbers. The demons were going wild, enjoying hurting the people of the lands.

Odin would have enough of their destructive ways. He would fight with Hel to gain control of her undead. A new war would erupt between Asgard and Nifleheim, Odin's forces spread all over all the realms in an attempt to do damage control. Brahms wasn't forgotten, but at that time became a lesser threat. He continued to hunt the revenants, killing those he could find. But the very fact of the revenant's existence had him thinking. Wondering if there was a way to make another kind of creature that was similar to Brahms but not so mindless like the revenants obviously were.

He began experimenting anew. Sometimes he'd capture a revenant alive, keep the creature bound up in chains. Brahms tried to see if feeding the revenant's hunger would bring back the creatures mind. But no matter how much blood the revenant took, always they remained mindless. Always hungry, always lusting to feed and kill any and everything that got in it's way. 

In the end, Brahms had to kill the ones he had captured. It left him angry, feeling all alone. Was there no way to repeat what had been done to him? No way to make others like him? He wanted power, he wanted armies. But also, he was tired of being alone. Tired of being hunted, of being maligned by all the other races. There was no place he was welcomed, no placed he could find peace to live in. He was hunted not only by the Heavens and the underworld, but by the people he chose to feed on.

But he wasn't ready to end his existence. He still had vengeance to live for. Odin had to pay. And to a lesser extent Hel, though Brahms really didn't have the heart in him to go after the Goddess. Not now that so much time had passed, allowing much of his anger with her to fade. It wasn't the same with Hel. She still hated Brahms. Hated him as much as she hated Odin. But she was locked into a war with Odin, in a battle for supremacy over the undead. Brahms was left to his own devices, and for a time all he did was feed, careful to not do anything that would lead to another revenant being born.

This way of living, of existing only to sate his hungers, bothered Brahms. He was a social creature, a man who had enjoyed the company of others. He was never meant to be solitary, never meant to live in hiding. For the longest time his only contacts were those he fed on, and those he fought with. It wasn't any way to live, his existence hollow. He was all alone, and Brahms was LONELY.

It was that loneliness that drove Brahms to the human cities. It was there he set up a residence for himself, stealing what he needed, using compulsion for the rest. Brahms had grown careful with his feedings, knowing it would only invite disaster to feed on those who lived in the city where he made his home. He'd make a journey every two nights to nearby cities, feeding there but returning to his new home before the sun had a chance to rise.

For a time, existing among the humans filled a void in Brahms' life. He had contact with intelligent beings, was able to pretend at having a normal life. But Brahms never forgot the things that had been denied him, never forgot his vengeance. Even as he studied the humans' culture, trying to learn enough to better fit in among them, he was missing the Heavens. Missing the people of that realm. But more than that, he missed having a purpose.

For the longest time he had existed for Hel. Existed to keep her safe, and to build her empire. Even after the underworld was an established kingdom, Brahms had continued to serve her. He had commanded her armies, trained them for the battles they would someday wage with Odin. Brahms had never expected those armies to be turned against him, to be used to hunt and hurt him. 

Brahms knew he would always be hunted. Always be an outcast so long as he was the only one of his own kind. He didn't even have a name for what he was! The name vampire had not yet come into fashion, Brahms being so careful and controlled when it came to his feedings. The humans had no way of knowing a new kind of predator hunted among them, blaming the deaths on the undead that walked the realm.

Ultimately, it was loneliness and a need to have others of his own kind that drove Brahms to make the first vampire. That desperation drove him to resume his experiments, Brahms risking much to try and make himself a companion. He didn't immediately delve into it, Brahms spending much time thinking, pondering the ways in which he could repeat the conditions that had changed him. He didn't know just how Odin had introduced the parasite into his body, but Brahms felt there was a sliver of hope. Those very revenants that had horrified him so, now made him think there was a chance to create a creature that hungered for blood but had it's mind intact. It wasn't just the revenants he looked at, Brahms eyeing Hel's undead. The way they doubled their numbers, somehow sharing the infection within them onto other creatures.

The most often way the undead shared their infection was through bites, or through cuts and scratches. But sometimes through the sharing of their own blood. Brahms had never tried to outright feed someone his own parasite laden blood. But he was curious enough to try that now. 

He didn't immediately set off to do this new experiment with his blood. He'd have to leave his home, Brahms not about to take a risk and perform any such experiments in the city he had come to live in. Instead he would perform his experiments out in the wilds, shutting himself and the man he had kidnapped into a forest cave. The man was a strapping youth, full of health and vitality. 

Brahms wasn't sure how exactly to go about this conversion. He didn't want to kill this man, didn't want him to be the first in a string of mistakes. So he took it slow, spreading out the experiment over several days. Many careful feedings would be used to weaken this man before Brahms would force him to drink his blood. He almost held his breath as he waited, fervently hoping this would work.

The change did not happen immediately. After all, Brahms did not know what he was doing, blundering through the creation process. The man seemed to grow weaker after tasting Brahms blood, actually getting sick, then dying a day later. Brahms was disappointed, not yet realizing the complexities of the transformation. He would bury the human outside his cave, but was not yet ready to try again with another human. Three days later, the earth would be disturbed, the very burial spot uncovered. The human had risen, desperately hungry for blood. 

He would return to his city, to his very home and feed off his family. Brahms would find the newly made vampire in the midst of feeding off his half alive mother. A fight would break out, Brahms having to subdue his newly created fledgling. But there was no need to kill him, the man's mind intact. Brahms would rejoice, realizing he had at last discovered the key to making more of his own kind.

New discoveries would come. Brahms would learn it would take power to truly transform another into a vampire. The newly made fledglings could not do it, all they could create was revenants. It would take several hundred years before a fledgling would become powerful enough to pass on the vampirism to others. Often times it would take that long for the fledgling to come to accept their new life.

He wasn't alone anymore, having a few vampires around him. And with the vampires, he learned even more things about the race he was creating. There was the oddity of the blood, the fact that one vampire feeding off another vampire, could receive memories. Thankfully this was only limited to the vampires' blood. It would have been a terrible thing if every time they fed off a different race they were flooded with that person's life memories.

It was a weird enough experience for the vampires to see each other's memories. It bonded the vampires together more closely, no secrets between them once they fed off of each other. Brahms' own personal history was shared with those first fledglings. It felt good to have the true story known, even as his fledglings bemoaned the fact that his history was too overwhelming to be burdened with.

Brahms did not realize it then, but in giving his vampires his blood and the knowledge contained within it, he was endangering the fledgelings. Odin would not tolerate the truth being made known. But it would take time for Odin to realize Brahms was creating his own race of people, the God too busy fighting with Hel for control of the undead. Brahms would have relative peace for the next three hundred years, the vampire busy. He kept on making vampires, trying to expand his race. He didn't set out to create a kingdom, he just wanted an army in which to contend with Odin. Soon the vampires reached such numbers that the flock had to relocate. There was too many to feed if they stuck together on the mainland. Brahms allowed them to break up, to travel elsewhere without him.

He'd search out a land for them. He'd find it on an island, a perfect place for the vampires to live. It would take years of searching Midgard, and even longer to build them a proper home on the island. Odin and Hel were busy too. Odin had successfully wrest control of the undead from Hel, and set them off to find Brahms. Hel herself was infuriated over the loss, left only with the demons of Niflehiem to protect her. She wasn't satisfied with such a small army of protectors. Hel would set her sights on the mortals, on further corrupting them.

It was Hel who began to teach magic to the humans. It was an ancient and forbidden art, a skill Odin had never intended the humans to learn. He damned those who began to follow Hel, but the mortals were more advanced now. Willing to make their own choices. Some didn't believe in Odin's wrath, didn't believe in the damnation he threatened them with. They persisted in following the Goddess, in learning her magic. It damned them, and added to her armies, Hel using them and their souls to further her own power.

Each of the three power players were gathering their armies. Odin so recently victorious against Hel, would turn his attention back to Brahms. He wouldn't like what he saw, the vampires thriving. He'd like it even less when he realized those vampires knew the truth of Brahms' origins. It was a sad day for Brahms when Odin sent the Valkyries to hunt down his fledglings. He'd send the undead too, many of the vampires dying, torn apart at the monsters' hands. They barely stood a chance against their opponents, the vampires still too inexperienced, too new to know how to utilize their strengths to fight effectively. He would try to do what he could to help minimize the losses, but even Brahms was not as almighty as to prevent so many vampires from dying.

It would be at a point of sheer and utter desperation that Brahms would try to take control of the undead. He hadn't expected his compulsion to work on them. It had been so long since he had tried it out on these types of creatures. He had wrongfully assumed that when Odin had severed his connection with Hel, it had damaged Brahms' control over the undead. Imagine his shock when he discovered quite the opposite, the undead quickly falling into line with Brahms' commands.

Odin was enraged at the loss of his undead armies. But there was nothing he could do to bring them back to his side. Brahms had them firmly under control, his command of them earning him the title Lord of the Undead. Odin thought Hel had purposefully given control of her monsters to Brahms, though the Goddess fervently denied it. She became shunned, not only by Odin and the other deities, but by many of the realms. 

Hel continued to thirst for vengeance, fighting Odin for control of Midgard. She couldn't take it by force, but many mortals were too foolish and eager to follow her. Those mortals gathered together, and under the Goddess' guidance, built whole nations devoted to her. Hel's power grew from the worshippers she gained. Odin would follow suit, creating his own kingdoms that were devoted to worshipping him.

Midgard was split in half, and the other realms seemed intent on allying with Odin. Brahms had no real allies, he only had his vampires and the undead monsters to rely on. By this point and time, the vampires who had survived the undead massacre, were strong enough to create vampires as well. The race was expanding, more and more vampires being created. 

Brahms was careful not to share his blood with these new fledglings, not wanting them to take the burden of his memories. He had noticed a trend, Odin targeting vampires who knew the truth of how their race came to be. It seemed Odin did not want anyone to know the real truth behind Brahm's transformation. Odin seemed to have an instinctive way of knowing just who knew the truth. And his reaction to that knowledge being shared was near instantaneous, striking down dead those who knew.

Brahms stopped sharing his blood completely with the vampires. Nor did he speak of their origins. Soon there was no vampire left alive who knew the truth. It was no surprise that rumors began. No one tried to correct this gossip. It was not as though the real truth was pleasant, and Brahms did not want to be reminded incessantly about his past. 

By this point Brahms was a master at compulsion. He was able to bespell many people just by having them gaze into his eyes. His bite was an even more powerful compulsion, Brahms able to make blood slaves if he so chose. He'd also learn to teleport, a skill that was quite handy when it came to battling the Valkyrie and their einherjar. 

But he wasn't ready yet to march on Asgard. Brahms would continue to develop the vampires, to make them a civilized race. He wasn't content to let them be nothing more than monsters that terrorized the realms. He might have even been content to let them exist safely on their island, if not for his pressing need to take revenge on Odin. He still hated Odin for what had been done to him, Brahms could not accept all the changes that had been wrought on his body. He even mourned that which had been done to Hel, though Brahms knew he and the Goddess would never be close again.

It was several hundred thousand years before Silmeria would be conceived, that Brahms made his first attack on Asgard. He took his now vast army up to the heavens, the undead eager for a chance to dine on Valkyrie flesh. His vampires had not yet been exposed to the treat that was a Valkyrie's blood. They had simply been too inexperienced to last against the battle maidens. But this time it would be different, the vampires having gained skill in fighting. It did not mean their victory was ensured. Especially not against legions of einherjar led by many able bodied Valkyrie.

They would be marching across Bifrost, the very bridge seeming to quake in response to their footsteps. Brahms was near the front of his army, mot quite in the lead as they made their way across the bridge. His eyes were greedy for the sights of Asgard, Brahms actually pausing at one point to just stare around him. The heavens were as beautiful as he had remembered, all the colors brighter, more blazing than Midgard's. The air here was sweet, there was none of the sulfur and brimstone stench that permeated the underworld.

It almost brought a tear to his eyes, Brahms overcome in the moment of his return. It had been too long since he had last set foot on this holy land. Time had not lessened the pain of being forced from his home. He could have stood and just stared in amazement for hours, but his vampires were urging him forward. They had none of his sentimentality, though they could acknowledge the heavens were beautiful indeed.

They'd resume trekking across the bridge, about half their army on it when a God appeared. Brahms recognized him in an instant, calling out his name. "Heimdall!" He was already shoving himself through to the front of his army, his eyes intent on the brown haired, bearded God.

Heimdall looked at him, his lower lip curling in a sneer. If he recognized Brahms, he gave no sign of it. "I thought I smelled the undead."

"Heimdall it's me." Brahms said in response. "It's Brahms." 

The God did not react to the name, neither impressed nor showing any signs of recognition. Brahms wondered at that, knowing that though his skin and eyes had changed color, he had not been transformed so thoroughly as to be unrecognizable.

"Don't you know me?" Brahms asked, taking a cautious step towards Heimdall. He was right to be wary, the God lighting up with power.

"Keep back!" Heimdall shouted, flinging globes of ether towards Brahms and his vampires. Instantly the night was filled with the sounds of teleportation, the vampires frantic to get out of the way. The undead monsters Brahms had taken control of, were left to bear the brunt of the God's attack, bodies flying up into the sky from the force of the explosion.

"Heimdall!" Brahms was aghast. "What are you doing?!"

"Undead scum." Heimdall was throwing more ether. "Your kind is not fit to walk among paradise. Your kind can only bring ruin to us. I will not allow you to spoil the land and the people of Asgard in the same manner you have spoiled the other realms! DIE!" 

The orbs of divine energy was flying, torpedoing into the scattering army. Those undead still on the bridge had nowhere to run, many falling into the waters Iving. The God attacked them even there, but by this point the vampires were teleporting in close to him. They'd hiss and snarl, striking at the God's body. They'd teleport in close, then vanish before he could deal with them.

They were a nuisance at best to the God. They served only to stir up Heimdall's anger, more of his divine energy flying. Brahms let out a breath, trying not to snarl himself as he prepared to teleport to Heimdall's side. The God would throw a punch at Brahms' arrival, the vampire grabbing at his wrist. 

"Stop this Heimdall! It's me! Brahms!"

"Stop speaking as though I should be familiar with you!" Heimdall growled, and with his free hand shoved a burst of energy into Brahms' face. It blinded him, Brahms staggering back when Heimdall kicked him. More energy crashed into him, Brahms could hear his people screaming, moving to attack the God. Their attacks distracted Heimdall from their King, buying Brahms a moment to recover.

"We grew up together." Brahms said when he had recovered. His eyes still hurt from the ether that had been thrust into his face. "Your mother was my wet nurse...!"

"Don't you dare!" Heimdall gasped, outraged. "Do not, even in jest, imply my mother would ever have anything to do with you undead!" More ether was flung at him, Brahms teleporting out of the way. 

"I wasn't always the creature you see before you! I too was once like you....!"

"LIES!" Heimdall screamed, continuing to rely on his ether to attack Brahms and his army. Even without Heimdall blowing his sacred horn, Gjallarhorn, the fight was attracting attention from others in the realm. It wouldn't be long before an advance party of Valkyrie arrived, einherjar following close behind them. Brahms would continue to fight with Heimdall, having to settle for teleporting to get in close enough to lay claws on the God. And all the while he wondered at Heimdall's words, wondered and worried how the God could claim not to know him.

He wouldn't get answers that day. Or the next. The fighting would continue, only increase in seriousness as Odin set forth his army to meet with Brahms'. Sometimes the vampires would catch a glimpse of other Gods, but mostly the deities kept out of the fighting. Brahms was always alert to when a new God appeared on the battlefield, allowing his vampires to distract the deity until Brahms could teleport over there. He'd arrive with hopes that the God would recognize him, and always, Brahms would come away disappointed.

It would be a long time before Brahms could finally understand just what Odin had done. How Odin had twisted the memories of the very Gods who lived in Asgard. They did not recognize Brahms, did not know of him beyond his titles as Lord of the Undead, and King of the Vampires. They seemed to have no knowledge of his time before he had fallen, before he had been transformed through Odin's own treachery. It was Odin's own doing. As King of Creation he had gained enough power to tamper with memories, even that of his fellow Gods. But it wasn't a complete erasing. Odin could not wipe out all of Brahms' memory from the Asgardian's minds. So he did the next best thing, twisting and distorting the memories until the Gods forgot that Brahms had once been one of their own.

Once again Odin had succeeded in taking from Brahms. It hurt to be forgotten, hurt that the Gods he had called friends no longer knew him. But Brahms didn't let the hurt stop him from living, from continuing to fight. The Vampire King did not know if what Odin had done could be reversed, but Brahms was determined to TRY. He never gave up hope that with Odin's death, many of the wrongs in his life would be righted.

Brahms didn't believe he could ever turn back from what he had become. The parasite was too ingrained in him, too a part of him. He'd never regain his divinity, never be free of the parasite and it's hunger. He could only make the best of his situation, continue to live and fight for his right to existence. For his vampires right to THEIR existence.

Silmeria felt the change in Brahms' thoughts, the vampire's resolve stronger than ever. He would have his long denied vengeance, killing Odin, and taking his seat upon Creation's throne. He would force the other realms to accept the vampires, force them to recognize the key difference between them and those mindless monsters, the revenants.

It wasn't an easy path he set out upon. The fighting would extend for millennia. It was rough going, Brahms at times becoming disheartened. He had lived only for vengeance, but now he also had motivation to live for the vampires he had created. But that wasn't enough to make him happy, Brahms struggling, sometimes daily, to find joy in his life.

That joy would eventually manifest in the form of a Valkyrie. Silmeria saw herself appear on the plains of Idavoll, over a millennia after the war in the heavens had started in earnest. Silmeria was familiar with their encounters, but now she experienced them from Brahms point of view. It was unsettling, Silmeria witnessing the sincerity of Brahms' interest in her. She had never denied his interest, though Silmeria had often tried to deny the depth of the feelings Brahms claimed he had for her. 

It was jarring to realize the vampire truly loved her. To the point it bordered on obsession. She witnessed the acts he did in the name of that obsession, the way he strove to get near to her. She'd even see his memories of her time as a fledgling vampire, Silmeria learning just how deeply her scornful words had cut. She was almost ashamed at how she had hurt him, Silmeria having to quickly remind herself Brahms was in the wrong for forcefully changing her.

But the main feeling she came away with, was an undeniable hope. The first true hope Brahms had felt in years. It was a hope centered on Silmeria, Brahms holding many expectations towards her and the kind of life they could have together. It was daunting, it was humbling, Silmeria realizing her very presence gave Brahms that which he had been missing all those years. Both happiness and hope. Silmeria didn't know if she could live up to those expectations. Nor did Silmeria know if she even wanted to try.

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To Be Continued...


	37. Thirty Seven

Hands were clapping, making a purposeful repeating sound that kept to the beat of the music. Laughter and cheers accompanied those sounds, the people smiling as they watched and waited for their chance to join in on the dancing. There wasn't that much room. Certainly not enough floor to accommodate everyone should all the guests decide to get up and dance at once. Patience was the key. When one couple took their seats, another would be quick to take their place in the dance.

Colors were all around her, the guests looking like a living rainbow in their new clothing. Women's skirts flared, twirling about as the ladies were spun by their partners. Flashes of legs could be seen, the men laughing, whistling in appreciation. There was no room for modesty, the women taking it all in stride as they danced to their heart's content.

Lenneth danced too, caught up in the arms of a man who was most definitely not her new husband. This man wore a constant smile, eyes bright with laughter as he spun Lenneth around him. Faster and faster, until she was almost dizzy and only the support of his arms kept her upright. Fortunately, he did not take this as an opportunity to pull her closer than was proper. Lenneth wouldn't have allowed it. She would have reacted in a manner most unbefitting for the laughter and festivity of the moment.

It was hard to remain unaffected by the people here. By their laughter and excitement, their sheer enjoyment of the day. It was downright infectious, and though Lenneth had done little smiling, and no outright laughing, she too could admit to a slight relaxing of her guard. It was simply too difficult to fight against the tide of the people, against their innocent joy.

It didn't mean Lenneth was completely at ease. She hadn't been all day, her troubles and worries of the night before plaguing her well into the start of today. And she had so many of them! More than perhaps she had ever had, even as a commander of Odin's armies. Back then, in her heavenly home, she had never felt the pressure or constraints of time. She had known she would live or die on the battlefield, and that had been enough for her.

In Asgard she had been just one of many Valkyries. Brave and bold, valued but replaceable. It hurt to be discarded so easily, but Lenneth had always accepted that as the one drawback to her life as a battle maiden. Of course Lenneth had never dreamed she would be given away, that her life as Valkyrie would end in anything but her own death. Perhaps that is why she found it so difficult to accept her circumstances now. 

Lenneth didn't think of herself as the marrying type. She had never seen herself as the type to settle down, and raise a family with some man. Lenneth still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that that is what was expected of her now. That that is what her King himself had decreed she should do. She railed against the future set out before her, fought it in the only way she knew how.

Or at least she had tried. Lenneth fought to keep her shoulders from sagging, her partner then spinning her into the arms of a different man. Like all her previous dance partners, the man held her at a distance, careful of crossing the line between proper and lewd. They all knew none of them had the right to hold her close. That that privilege was reserved for Lenneth's husband, and him alone.

Dancing that wild, unrestrained dance, Lenneth tried to catch sight of Lezard as she moved. He was out there somewhere, caught up in the arms of one of the many women present. Something, perhaps Odin's enchantment, caused a stir of unrest in Lenneth that had nothing to do with her upset over being married. It was jealousy, pure and powerful in it's form. She didn't like the thought of Lezard spending time with another woman. Any more than Lenneth liked the fact that she could get jealous over the idea.

She wasn't the type to get possessive over a man. She knew that. Lenneth could recognize these feelings as unnatural, as engineered by Odin's love spell. And yet it didn't make what she was feeling any less real! It could drive her mad, all these unfamiliar, unwelcome feelings she suffered through daily. Predominately she dealt with love, the feeling unwanted and pulling her towards Lezard. That love made her nervous, made her worry incessantly. She feared it and him, and that was another thing for Lenneth to be upset about. And all because she wasn't used to fearing much of anything. Certainly not some mortal man!

She didn't fear Lezard exactly. She was frightened more of what he represented to her, the shackles that would be put on her heart and spirit if she gave into the love festering inside her. It wasn't a natural love she was fighting. Odin's enchantment would strip away her spirit, her personality and free will. Make her a slave of her husband, hopelessly devoted and endlessly yearning for him. And that was something Lenneth could not allow.

Perhaps that is why she had pinned her hopes on a desperate scheme. A plan that if successful, would have restored her to her former divine glory. Or so she had hoped. Lenneth did not know if it was even possible to regain what she had lost. Never had a Valkyrie, regardless of the circumstance that led to the Goddess' casting out, been brought back to Asgard. And never had that which had been rendered mortal, been allowed the privilege of ascending to anything more than that of the Gods' servants. Einherjar.

And yet she had had to try. To do anything Lenneth could, even if it meant clawing and crawling her way back to the heavens. The days before the wedding had been wasted, Lenneth trying and FAILING. She had not found out anything she could use, nothing that would allow her to curry favor with King Odin. She was defeated in the moment, yet Lenneth refused to give up on her quest. Even as the hours, the very minutes were counting down against her. 

It was disappointing, downright upsetting that she hadn't been able to find proof of Hel's true intent before she had been forced to marry Lezard. A lesser woman might have despaired, or accepted it as a sign that she was meant to fail. But Lenneth, couldn't, wouldn't resign herself to her fate. To the love Odin had tried to enchant her with. Even as she knew the time was coming when the party would be at an end, Lenneth hung on to hope, little though it was. 

Lenneth was DETERMINED. To not only expose Hel's planned treachery in the Asgard Nifleheim alliance, but to come through this night with her heart still belonging to Lenneth. But apprehension was strong within her. Lenneth still vividly recalled how she had reacted to Lezard. She had been frozen, succumbing to his touches and his kisses. And all the while knowing that with every touch, every caress he was strengthening the enchantment upon her. Damning Lenneth closer to loving him slavishly.

Lenneth tried to tell herself that she had been caught unaware. That she had been unprepared for the feelings that would be stirred up by Lezard's touch. She tried to convince herself that it would be different tonight. That she would be ready, and able to stave off those unwanted feelings. That she could make herself ice, impervious to the warming her heart was attempting to do. 

It didn't lessen the apprehension she was feeling. Lenneth was terrified of losing herself. Of becoming a slave to emotions. There was so much at risk, not just the cost to herself, but the cost to Asgard as well. For Lenneth knew, if she gave in to the enchantment tonight, never again would she worry about exposing Hel's evil. Never again would Lenneth worry about her sisters, or about the people who lived up in the heavens. And that was simply unacceptable to Lenneth!

She didn't betray her thoughts as she danced. To look at Lenneth, one would never suspect the apprehension within her. They'd see the stoic face of a Valkyrie, the former Goddess unaffected by the concerns most brides would be having at the moment. They'd never know how frightened Lenneth was at the thought of consummating this marriage, and that was the way she preferred things.

A different man took hold of her hand, guiding her away from her current partner. There were no objections to this, people switching partners often. No one was with the person they had started the dance with, friends and strangers coming together with laughter. Lenneth almost envied them their carefree attitudes, the woman having little experience with such a show of merriment and joy.

She spun in fast circles, being guided around her partner's body. On one of her many turns, she saw him. Lezard. He was separated from her by at least a dozen bodies, a redhead in green dancing around him. But his eyes were all for Lenneth, staring at her as though she was the only one in the room. For him, that might very well be true, Lenneth turning flustered in response to the look in Lezard's eyes. 

Two more spins, and she lost sight of him. The dancers had moved in such a way, that the sea of couples had swallowed him up. And yet she kept turning her gaze in that direction, trying to sight him one more. Sometimes she'd think she'd see the flash of his glasses, or see brown hair that could have been his. And then she was being pulled in the wrong direction, a new partner being most eager to dance with the former Goddess.

It would go on like this for all night if she let it. Her partners all seemed determined to keep Lenneth away from her husband, having pulled them apart almost immediately once the dancing had begun. Lezard hadn't had the chance to voice a protest, women waiting and eager for their turn at dancing with the lord of Flenceburg. Lenneth vaguely recalled Mystina mentioning something about the significance of the dance. Some sort of ritual or tradition that was doing nothing except to tire Lenneth out! 

The whole day had been full of rituals. From the moment the sun had risen in the sky, things had been happening. There had been the bath meant to purify Lenneth both body and soul. The cleansing waters had been cold, as though they had meant to freeze out any impurities inside Lenneth. It had been a great relief when she had been allowed the much warmers waters of the bathhouse, and the other women had joined her in the pool. They had paid great attention and care to preparing Lenneth for the wedding. Fragrant herbs had been crushed into a paste, and mixed into the soapy water they had used to shampoo Lenneth's hair. Similar flowers floated in the water, every inch of Lenneth's skin being anointed with their perfumes.

There was meaning behind the flowers and the herbs used. They conferred the blessings of fertility, of health, and happiness. There was even ones for love, the flowers making some sort of heady perfume that was said to be both intoxicant and aphrodisiac. Lenneth had balked at the idea of wearing a supposed aphrodisiac, thinking the last thing she needed was to further encourage Lezard's interest in her. 

The women had insisted, and an agreement was eventually reached. Only the tiniest amount would be used, enough to gain the blessings of the flower. The older women had disapproved of this, but the younger women had smiled, turning teasing. They had outright stated that Lenneth was so beautiful, she would not need any flowers to entice her husband to her bed.

Those teasing words had brought an unfamiliar heat to Lenneth's face. She didn't think she had outright blushed, but Lenneth had been embarrassed all the same. And all because she knew they were right. Lezard did not need any additional enticement to find Lenneth attractive!

If ever she had been in doubt of Lezard's physical attraction to her, Lenneth need only remember how he had looked as they said their vows before Hel's priestess. The man hadn't been able to take his eyes off Lenneth, a dark heat in his expression that had been downright predatory. He WANTED her. Wanted her in a way that Lenneth had no experience with. In all the centuries she had lived, the only thing she had truly been desired for, was the blood in her veins. The power it would give the undead fiends who lusted after all Valkyrie.

Lezard didn't want Lenneth's blood. It held no use for him. He wanted her body. Wanted her in the way a man wants a woman, and knows she cannot refuse him. It was a frightening thought. Frightening because of the truth it held. 

Unsettled, Lenneth's dance faltered mid step. Her feet were nearly trod on by her partner, the man nearly not recovering in time to right her sudden stumble. By the look on his face, he showed he did not suspect the real reason for her sudden clumsiness. He'd actually try to continue the dance, but Lenneth? She had had enough.

Not even trying to make excuses, she began shouldering her way off the dance floor. The music didn't stop, the people continued to move around her. Sometimes right into her path, trying to encourage her to resume the dance. Lenneth sidestepped them all, even Randolf who was the most persistent of all. The look on the blonde man's face was almost comical when he realized the Valkyrie had evaded his best attempts, but Lenneth couldn't truly smile.

It was good to be off the dance floor, but there was no true relief found at the feasting tables. People pressed in around Lenneth, eager to offer their congratulations. To engage her attention, to try and entice the Valkyrie into sharing more than few words of conversation with them. But these people were strangers to her, and many she didn't even know their names. It made Lenneth tense, the woman not forgetting her training on the field. Her guard was going back up, Lenneth effortlessly avoiding those who would presume to touch her. 

Just as she avoided the many mugs of drink that was offered to her. It was breaking with tradition, the special honey blend a mead that was meant to promote fruitfulness in those who drank of it. As the bride, there was a demand that Lenneth drink as much as she could tolerate of the honey mead. But one taste of the potent brew had let Lenneth know how easily the drink would destroy the remains of her defenses. To be so weakened by Odin's enchantment was one thing, but it would be doubly disastrous to end up drunk on top of it all.

It wasn't going unnoticed that Lenneth was refusing the drink. It disturbed some of the older guests, but the younger crowd was quick to make excuses. She had heard them say more than once, that Lenneth didn't know their ways. That she didn't know the importance behind the drink. It didn't appease some of the more haughty of complainers, but at least no one had dared press the issue to Lenneth herself.

Avoiding the path of well wishers and drink pushers, and staying out of reach of some of the more eager dancers, Lenneth walked past the banquet tables. The remains of the wedding feast lay on the black brocade of the table cloths. The feast had been grand, more food than Lenneth could ever recall seeing at one time. And that was saying something, considering the nightly feasts that were held for the einherjar in Valhalla.

Lezard had spared no expense where the wedding was concerned, and it extended to the food. Hunting had been good, whole racks of lamb broiled, wild pigs roasted, even venison had been made readily available. The people here did not hold back their appetites, all but demolishing the feast within a few hours time. And to wash it all down, wine was supplied, in addition to the special honey blend of mead.

Frankly Lenneth wouldn't be surprised if she was one of the only ones NOT to be drunk at this point and time. The reception had been going on for hours. Long enough for the sun to set on this day. And yet the party showed no sign of ending, people overly zealous in their merry making. Not only was the dance floor crowed, but the gaming tables were also full of people. Gambling away their fortunes, and perhaps too drunk to care. 

There was even contests going on, some of the party spilling out into the castle courtyard. There had been contests of strength for the men, the hunters pitting themselves against one another in matches of archery, wrestling, and sword duels. For those less brawny in stature, there had been games of wit, and even a few conjuring contests for the magically inclined.

It wasn't just a tiring day, it was an overwhelming one. The people had tried to include Lenneth in everything they did. They were warm and welcoming, issues with mead aside. And yet she had always felt the outcast, unable to relax completely. Lenneth wondered if she would always feel that way, then quickly frowned. She knew her private long term goals did not allow for a future here in Flenceburg. As such she shouldn't worry quite so much about making friends with these people.

But some relationships could not be avoided. Such as the one with Lezard. Lenneth peered at the dancers, trying to find some sign of her husband. But if he was still there, Lezard was lost amidst the crowd. That suited Lenneth just fine. Tired as she was, Lenneth was not ready to retire for the night. Not to the bedroom she would now share with her husband.

Still searching the crowd for Lezard, Lenneth began making her way towards the rear entrance of the ball room. Nearly every step of the way was impeded, people trying to gain Lenneth's interest. She was saying things, making excuses in an attempt to hurry along her exit. Impatience flared within her, Lenneth wanting out of the room, and out of it now! And yet she wouldn't allow herself to be rude, making her tediously slow escape.

Once out in the hall, she breathed easier. Lenneth could still hear the laughter and conversation of the guests, it and the musicians' songs trickling into the hall. The hall itself was empty, no signs of the black and gold clad men who normally stood guard over the castle. Lenneth frowned at the realization that their posts had been abandoned. And all because she knew a stronghold was only as secure as the people who guarded it made it. Yes, some of the most powerful mages in Flenceburg were present for the party, but that didn't mean the guards could slack off.

She was uneasy with this lack of discipline, knowing that in Valhalla, the einherjar would never be allowed to abandon their posts. Lenneth almost turned around to reenter the ball room, if not for the opportunity the missing guards presented her with. This would be the first time she was truly alone. The first time she had no one, not even a servant, to report back on her movements. Something like a glimmer of a smile crossed her lips, Lenneth relishing the absolute freedom of the moment. 

Her self appointed mission was always at the forefront of her mind. It was that mission that moved her now, Lenneth stalking away from the ball room on silent feet. She didn't know if she could find anything of use, but Lenneth HAD to try. Some might call it desperate, or think her foolish. Clinging to that last, desperate hope that she would discover what she needed and avoid taking this marriage any further. Lenneth tried to avoid any doubts, but also tried to keep from letting herself feel overly hopeful. All the while thinking that if she could just find some proof, Lenneth could take it and leave the castle before Lezard even knew she was gone.

She tried to ignore the pain in her heart at that thought. Tried to tell herself it was only Odin's enchantment that made Lenneth feel badly at the thought of walking out on Lezard. She wouldn't let any doubts or regret stop her though, Lenneth walking through the castle. Trying to decide where exactly to search first. The most promising place was the private wing of the castle. The one Lezard had claimed for his sole use. She had been there once before, Lenneth refusing to think about the almost kiss Lezard had nearly forced on her there.

She hadn't had much time to look around, that last time she had entered into his private chambers. But this time looked to be more promising. Holding onto her skirts to minimize the rustling sounds they made, Lenneth hurried as quick as she dared. She'd have to avoid a servant, some man who had stepped away from the party to smoke his pipe. Lenneth would stay hidden in the shadows, waiting for him to leave before she could take the staircase up to the next floor.

That large, hated crest of Hel's seemed to mock her, the cruel Goddess' blank visage waiting for Lenneth as she took to the landing. Except to scowl at it, Lenneth ignored it, walking past with her head held high. There wasn't anyone to see, the guards gone from this part of the castle too. The uneasy feeling continued, Lenneth almost thinking she was walking into a trap. She'd feel better to be armed, but there was no weapon readily available to her at this time. 

Pressing on, ignoring her unease, Lenneth walked down the long hallway. Many of the doors were closed, hiding the contents of Lezard's storehouses from her. She'd check them all eventually, but like with her previous visit, Lenneth was sure Lezard would keep anything incriminating close to him. That meant either his private workshop or his bedroom, and the two rooms were located side by side.

She had been to his workshop before, Lenneth carefully studying without touching, the experiments that lay out in the open. They had been proof of dark magic, but hadn't been anything that could incriminate Hel or her people of working against the alliance with Asgard. It didn't mean that something couldn't be hidden there, something she had missed on her first look through. Lenneth would return to the workshop, but before she set foot there, she would try a room she had yet to see.

The door to Lezard's--to their bedroom was unlocked. It made no sound as she pushed it open, it's silver hinges well oiled and free of rust. Lenneth would step forward almost cautiously, as though she expected something to spring out at her at any moment. Nothing like that happened. For a sorcerer's private sanctum, the bedroom was decidedly lacking in magical defenses. She didn't relax her guard though, Lenneth certain there would be charms, or curses on anything of importance.

The room itself was decidedly masculine. All rugged and earthy looking, with dark mahogany wood making up most of the furniture. The colors were dark, the walls painted a brown that was several shades darker than the mahogany furniture. A dark carpet covered the floor, a red the color of blood when it has dried. Unlike the room Lenneth had been using for the last several days, the carpet hear wasn't plush. Her feet didn't sink into the fibers ankle deep. She preferred it this way, the carpet doing it's job in keeping the floor warm.

Amidst all the dark brown, there was hints of another color. A bronze accent that bordered the point where ceiling met the wall. The ceiling itself was just as dark as the walls, but an intricate pattern had been painted onto it's surface with the bronze. Lenneth stared at it a moment, recognizing the powerful magic that emanated from the symbols. She was no expert, especially when one took into consideration the many mages that followed Queen Hel, but Lenneth was sure it was a protection spell of some kind. It made her uneasy, Lenneth wondering just what it would take to trigger the spell, and what form it's protection would take. Would it react to her snooping? Would she be struck down the instant she discovered something of importance?

But she couldn't allow the spell to deter her. Whispering a protection spell of her own, and wishing she had had more experience when it came to the many magics that existed in the world, Lenneth continued her survey of the room. There was an armoire in one corner, the doors not completely closed. It was overstuffed with clothing, and not all of it was Lezard's. The seamstresses had finished with most of Lenneth's new wardrobe, and as her new married status dictated, the clothing had been brought to the room she would now share with her husband.

Lenneth didn't have much use for the clothing. Not when they were all in the ridiculously limiting fashion that the women of Flenceburg seemed to favor. All heavy skirts with needless frills, bogging down her movements and her choices when it came to fighting. The gowns were fine if she had been a spell caster. She wouldn't need much mobility to weave magic. But to fight with a sword? Or even just with her body? It was practically pure disaster!

Sighing to herself, Lenneth turned her attention away from the armoire. The desk situated across the room from the large bed, looked the most promising of everything inside this room. With it's many drawers, and compartments, there was much to search. And not all of the drawers had been locked, to her surprise and her pleasure. 

Carefully handling the objects inside, Lenneth would rifle through the top most drawer. There was folders, with documents inside. Papers she skimmed over briefly, trying to see if anyone had been fool enough to write down Hel's planned betrayal. There was small boxes that upon opening, revealed charms and amulets, even a jar of some odious powder. Quills and ink pots were also inside, along with an elaborate wax sealer that would place Lezard's mark upon any letters he sent, any documents he signed.

It all seemed perfectly normally, smelly powder aside. She felt disappointed, Lenneth fingers skimming one of the locked drawers. She had no keys, and she was no lock pick. If Lenneth had retained her divinity, her strength alone would have been enough to force the drawer open. But mortal as she was, no matter how Lenneth struggled and strained, the drawer wouldn't so much as budge. It left her frustrated, Lenneth positive something of importance was inside it.

She continued to stand at the desk, all but glaring at the locked drawers. She wanted it open now, and knew unless she suddenly developed the skills of a thief, Lenneth's curiosity would go unsated. She felt the urgency of the situation, Lenneth wanting to discover what secrets Lezard hid, and discover them now. She had no time for guile, to lure Lezard into a false sense of comfort so that she could pilfer his keys when his guard was down. She wanted-needed proof of his Queen's treachery, and felt the frustration of how everyone and everything seemed to conspire against her!

Angry, but holding back the urge to let out a growl of frustration, Lenneth dropped down into the desk's chair. It was black leather, stuffed but not overly so to keep it from being too comfortable. It creaked with her movements, Lenneth lowering her head into her hands, feeling how tired, how frustrated, how defeated she was. She wasn't going to cry though. If anything she was in a mood so foul, she would have relished a fight with a legion of Brahms' best vampires. She needed an outlet, some violent activity that would help to soothe her inner turmoil. And fighting some inexperienced castle guards wasn't going to cut it.

The stress was getting to her. Perhaps it had been since the moment she had awakened to Lezard's kiss. Bad enough she had had to worry about unwanted feelings towards the man who had kissed her awake, but to have to deal with Hel's treachery on top of it all? It was too much, Lenneth shouldering this burden alone. Desperate to not only prove herself to Odin, but to save everyone from Hel's evil.

Truly the last thing she needed in this moment, was the reminder that it was her wedding night. The pressures that came with being a new bride. But the footsteps on the threshold of the room's door, alerted Lenneth to the fact she was no longer alone. She knew without turning it was her husband, Lezard having come to seek her out at long last. Lenneth couldn't help but stiffen in her seat, her hands still covering her face. As displeased as she was by his arrival, Lenneth was also embarrassed to have been caught in so vulnerable a moment.

"Lezard..." Lenneth said, her voice betraying none of her weakness as she lowered her hands. "Has the party ended already?" 

He made no inquiries on how she had known it was him. And why should he? It wasn't as though anyone else would have dared come to this room! "Not yet." Lezard said in answer to her question. She could almost picture him grimacing, his voice holding the inflection of it. "I'm afraid the party won't be winding down any time soon. Not so long as the majority still have the energy to move."

"It seems as if the party will go on all night then." Lenneth said, vividly recalling how energetic everyone had seemed.

"We'll be lucky if it ends by morning." Lezard retorted. "It's been a long time since they've had cause to celebrate..." She came away with the feeling he had wanted to say more, as though Lezard had abruptly censored himself. But Lenneth couldn't guess as to what he was not saying, the woman turning in her seat to see the dark look in his eyes. He had thought of something. Something that troubled him.

"Lezard?" She couldn't keep from being concerned, Lenneth rising out of her chair. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Why would there be anything wrong?" He asked instead of answering. The smile that he flashed her was clearly forced, the light not reaching his eyes. "I am here on this beautiful night, alone with my sweet bride. Now is not the time to let anything spoil this moment."

He was almost glib as he answered. Lenneth was not, not liking nor needing the reminder that they were alone. "We should get back to the party." But when she made a move towards the door, he stepped into her path. Lenneth had to draw up short to prevent bumping into Lezard's body.

"They'll never know we're gone." He said.

It made her frown. "I'm sure that's not true."

A slight shrug from him. "They won't miss us." Lezard insisted. "If anything, they'll have been expecting us to take our leave of them." Now his smile looked genuine, the light of it reaching his eyes. It gave him a look that was part mischievous, part rake, Lezard almost teasing then. "No doubt they're surprised I lasted this long."

Now that made her uneasy, Lenneth understanding what he implied. That he had kept away from her, was something short of a miracle. Especially for so long. She also understood his patience was at an end, Lezard all too ready to claim his bride. Just as she was most decidedly not ready. For that, for any of it, Lenneth feeling her chest grow tight with her upset.

"It tried my patience, really it did." Lezard continued. "But then that was the point of it all."

"It?" Lenneth echoed, feeling she was missing part of the conversation.

Again that teasing smile. "Surely you noticed." He said. "The way they purposefully kept us apart for the better part of the night."

She had thought it strange. "That was on purpose?" She breathed out, and he nodded. 

"One of the more trying traditions for the wedding." Lezard explained. "I never realized just how annoying it was, until we were the recipient of it." He made a scoffing sound then. "It's supposed to build anticipation between the newly wedded couple. As well as tests the limits of their patience."

And it was obvious to Lenneth that Lezard's patience had indeed been tested. "I see..."

"It all must seem so strange and silly to you." Lezard continued. Lenneth found herself nodding. 

"Indeed. But then what do I know of mortal customs." 

"It's been a long time since you walked among mortals as anything but a Valkyrie." Lezard noted.

"Centuries at least." Lenneth confirmed. "Much has no doubt changed since then."

"No matter how much things change, some things remain the same." Lezard said. "The rituals may differ, but the end result is the same. People still marry and start families together."

"Wars still happens, and alliances fall through..." Lenneth murmured softly. That troubled look returned to his eyes, but then Lezard was shaking it off.

"Fortunately there's no war to worry about on this night. "Truthfully, Lenneth would have preferred a war to what was expected of her on this night. That shaky, nervous feeling only intensified when Lezard lifted his arm, fingers outstretched to caressed a curl that touched her cheek. Lenneth couldn't stop her reaction in time, the former Goddess actually stiffening in response.

Lezard's hand froze, the touch not completed. He stared at her a moment, then was abruptly turning away. He seemed as though he would not comment on her reaction, Lezard instead moving to close and lock the bedroom door. Her heart beat seemed to increase in tempo to the turning of the lock. And yet she couldn't retreat, Lenneth refusing to seem a coward by backing away. Lezard actually looked surprised to turn and see her still standing so close. It was clear he had expected her to flee to a much safer distance. 

"I won't run." Lenneth said it as much for herself, as she did for his benefit. She was reminding them both of what she had been. Her condition may have changed, but the heart of what she had been, hadn't. She was still all Valkyrie, still the proud warrior woman. Running was simply not an option. She would face headfirst her duty, though she wouldn't be able to make love to Lezard with any sort of pretense of joy.

"I didn't think you would." Lezard said once he had recovered from his surprise. "You're anything but a coward."

If only he knew how badly she felt like shaking! Many, including her sister Hrist, would have laughed to see the once fearless Lenneth so afraid. But the closer Lezard came to Lenneth, the more aware she became of what was expected of her. And just how that task would most likely destroy her spirit, and free will, rendering Lenneth into a shell of the woman she had once been. 

"Lenneth..." Lezard said at the exact instant Lenneth said his name. They both paused and blinked at each other, and then Lezard was nodding. "You first."

It was strange. As much as she wanted to delay this from happening, her anxiety was such she almost wanted it over and done with. Then maybe she'd breathe easier, her chest no longer constricting in pain. "You know this isn't what I would have chosen for myself." Lenneth said out loud.

"I know." His expression had gone unreadable in response to that.

"I never wanted to retire from being a Valkyrie. Never did I want to tie myself down to any man, never mind who he was." She told him. "I was happy as a battle maiden. I couldn't, can't, imagine any other life being half as fulfilling. Let alone a life where I am bespelled to love against my will." Lenneth let out a deep breath. "I know things could infinitely be worse. I could have been given to a man who has not been half as kind as you have been. It makes..."

"Lenneth." Lezard interrupted, that hard to read expression still in place on his face. "Please...no more..."

"No more?" She repeated, and frowned. 

"Whatever you had been about to say, I don't deserve it." He told her. It only made Lenneth frown harder, the woman not understanding what he could mean by that. And yet it was clear he wasn't about to explain it to her, Lezard actually turning away from her. It made Lenneth move, her hand reaching to touch his arm. He reacted to that touch, turning to catch her hand in his. He'd actually raise her hand to his mouth, lips brushing across her knuckles in a kiss. But she saw the troubled look in his eyes, Lezard struggling with something. 

"Won't you tell me what's wrong?" Lenneth asked, using her other hand to brush back her own hair. "It's clear something is bothering you."

His mouth hesitated over her hand. "It's nothing..."

"You won't share even that much with me?" Damn but unexpected hurt had slipped into her voice just then. "I am your wife now...your troubles are mine." If anything, his eyes darkened with some unfamiliar pain. She didn't understand it, couldn't fathom what was bothering him so.

"It's just nerves." Lezard said, then let out a strained chuckle. "I don't want to hurt you..."

Her own eyes widened, Lenneth surprised. Could Lezard truly be as nervous about what was to happen between them as she was? Just the thought warmed something inside her, softening her expression ever so slightly. She couldn't remain unaffected, not when faced with how troubled he was at the thought of hurting her. Lenneth made a decision then and there, reaching with her hand to touch the side of Lezard's face.

"You won't." She encouraged, fingers caressing over his cheek. He actually lost some of his own stiffness, leaning into her caress with a sigh. He'd reach up to cover that caressing hand with his, his trouble eyes gazing at hers. There was heat coming into his expression. Not a lot, but enough to let her know he was shrugging off some of his worries. He was still bothered by something, but Lezard was clearly not about to let it ruin the night for him. 

With desire blooming in his eyes, his hand still holding hers, Lezard closed the distance between them. Lenneth was pleased that she didn't so much as gasp, holding herself absolutely still for the kiss that was coming. It started out chaste, his trembling lips almost uncertain on hers. When Lenneth didn't try to pull away, it emboldened him, Lezard deepening the pressure on her mouth.

It wasn't unpleasant. Lenneth stood there, and without realizing it, leaned into his kiss. It was a subconscious act of encouragement, one she didn't realize she was giving. Not even as Lezard acted upon her unspoken invitation, exerting enough pressure with his mouth that there was no choice there but to yield. Her lips parted, Lenneth unprepared for the slow thrust of his tongue inside her mouth. She had time to think it was too much for her, that it was too overwhelming and traumatic. Lenneth knew then her heart was going to be lost before the night was through, and that brought out the shaking she had tried so hard to hold back.

Trembling, she closed her eyes to hide the mix of hurt and longing in her expression. It wasn't going to be enough, she wasn't going to be able to survive this. The first real note of despair started within her, even as her heart sighed with longing.  
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To Be Continued....


	38. Thirty Eight

It had been the most excruciating of days. Tiring and trying, Lezard's patience had been tested to it's limits. By both the people around him, and the rituals they had insisted he take part in. From the early morning bath in cold waters, to being surrounded by a group who had clearly indulged in ten drinks too many, to the never ending celebrating that continued even now. It was a celebration that would last well into morning, and even once the official party ended, others would start. Some might go as far as to spend the week celebrating, using his wedding to Lenneth as an excuse to take an extended holiday. Others, such as those of the common class, would not be able to afford such a luxury. Not when there was work to be done, and wages that needed to be earned. 

Lezard himself would not be able to truly relax. He was the administrator of Hel's schemes, and as such he had many things to over see. From triple checking to make sure the warehouses were stock full with preserved foods, to outfitting every last man and woman with the armor and the weapons necessary for fighting Hel's war. Even the medicines that would stave off Hel's plague had been left up to Lezard. Those were just some of his official duties, Lezard having agendas that were secret to all save for Odin. In the coming days, Lezard would have a fine balance to maintain. He'd have to all but juggle to appease both his Queen and the God he was betraying her with. 

It was a lot of work, and a lot of worry to deal with. But more than that, it would prove time consuming. Lezard would be in demand, and not just to the deities he worked under, but to the people around him. He would have to reassure, and offer advice, make life and death decisions for a great many people. The pressure would mount, his deceptions becoming more intricate as the inevitable war drew closer to occurring. If anything, it seemed the absolute worse time to take a bride. Especially a bride like Lenneth, whose heart had yet to be won. 

Lezard feared he wouldn't have nearly enough time to devote to Lenneth as he would have liked. Not when the mage was at the beck and call of both Hel and Odin. He not only had to keep both happy, he had to safeguard the heavens from his Queen's grasping hands. Even worse, Lezard had to do it in such a way as for the queen to never realize he was betraying her. It was more than just his life that was at stake, more than just the fate of his soul now. Lenneth herself would be in danger, should the cruel Goddess ever realize how much Lezard valued his wife. He could endure all manners of torments, but one thing Lezard could not abide was the thought of Lenneth suffering at Hel's hands. Especially when the suffering was one he would be directly responsible for!

His feelings for Lenneth complicated things. Had complicated them from the moment he had first seen her. Lezard had wanted salvation when he had first been sent on Hel's errand to Asgard. He had been determined to gain Odin's promise in that endeavor, but that had all changed with the glimpsing of platinum hair and piercing blue eyes. Lezard hadn't realized it then, but some part of him had been love struck by the mere sight of Lenneth. The urge to possess had guided him, Lezard brokering a deal that could be described as foolish at best. He had wanted her so strongly, Lezard had been willing to do anything, even give up eternity, to gain her.

The feelings that had started on the plains of Idavoll had only grown stronger once Lenneth had arrived in Flenceburg. Until Lezard could no longer deny what they meant, the mage love sick and damning himself for placing Lenneth in so vulnerable a position. Guilt consumed him, Lezard sure Lenneth would never have been in danger if not for his own desires. His desires had cast her out of the heavens, had made her mortal. Those same desires might draw unwanted attention to the former Goddess, Hel and even other agents of hers eyeing Lenneth. Looking for a way to use her against Lezard.

She was and would continue to be in danger. They'd live out their lives surrounded by enemies who waited eagerly for an opportunity Lezard refused to present them with. He would do almost anything to play indifferent to his bride. It would hurt them both, Lenneth having proven quite vocal on what she would and would not tolerate from the one who would gain her heart. She wanted love. Wanted her feelings returned, even if the love she felt had been manufactured by her King's spell. Lezard wanted to give himself back to her, to hand over his heart to her safe keeping. But he wouldn't dare. Not when so much was at risk. At best Lezard could only offer Lenneth a kind of friendship, and even that might be risking too much. 

It was simply the sad truth that Lezard could never tell Lenneth how he truly felt about her. But he couldn't stop the love in his heart, his thoughts focused on Lenneth. On seeing to her safety and her happiness. On being there for her, in ways that had nothing to do with his duty as her husband, and everything to do with the affection he held for her. And maybe, just maybe, she would someday realize the things he could not say. The love he could never truly express.

These were thoughts Lezard had near continuously. Repeating over and over, worries and regrets, Lezard wishing he had been a less selfish man. A man who would have been able to look at Lenneth, and not want to the point he'd bring ruin upon her through thoughtless actions. Lezard knew now when he had brokered that deal with Odin, that he hadn't been thinking beyond the feelings stirred within him. That he hadn't considered the troubles he would place Lenneth in, how he would weaken her and himself by bringing her down from her lofty perch up in the heavens.

Sometimes, however, he thought none of that would have mattered in the moment. And all because Lezard had wanted Lenneth so badly then and now. What was one more sin, to a man already damned? A man who would gladly go to Hel's tortures, if it meant he could have a slice of his own paradise with Lenneth as his bride? That kind of thinking worried Lezard most of all. And all because it wouldn't allow him a definitive answer, Lezard not knowing what he would have done if given the chance to do things over.

Nor could he completely put the past behind him. There was too many lies, too many deceptions and manipulations. Especially of Lenneth, Lezard painfully aware of how his actions had orchestrated her fate. Lenneth believed she was being punished, cast aside for her failure to save her sister from the vampires. It was Odin's own private joke, the God surely laughing at them both. Delighting in the torments caused by Lenneth's beliefs. The beliefs set them both up for failure, the relationship doomed should Lenneth ever learn the truth. Especially if she was not in love with Lezard when, if, the truth came out.

Lezard feared the truth's reveal would end with his heart broken in pieces, Lenneth hating him. Despising him for all he had done. It made him all the more determined to keep the truth from her, even as he ruthlessly pursued her heart. He didn't know yet how to win her love, but Lezard wasn't one to give up so easily. Especially with a prize so valued, Lenneth's love worth more than Lezard's weight in gold.

He had never felt this way about a woman. It was almost as though Lezard was the one under an enchantment. But if he was bespelled, he simply didn't care. The feelings roused in him whenever Lezard thought of, or saw or talked to Lenneth, were too strong to resist. He loved with his entire being, taking the good with the bad, and hoping for the chance to achieve happiness with the woman who held his heart. 

Never had he been more aware of the feelings inside him, than this afternoon at the altar. He had been nervous, his thoughts troubling him with their obsessive track of worry. But the instant the doors had opened, admitting Lenneth into the room, his head had gone silent. For that one perfect moment, no thoughts had troubled him, no worries or fears had plagued him. He had merely stared at Lenneth, taken with how beautiful she was. It had been a beauty that made his heart tighten in pain, as though it had hurt to look at Lenneth. 

The moment hadn't lasted long enough, before insecurities began whispering through his mind. Lezard could remember thinking he was both damned and blessed in the moment, and even now those thoughts remained. They had stayed with him the whole day, hounding him and limiting his enjoyment of the evening's celebration. Lezard barely tasted the meal he had forced down, and too often had his gaze been riveted onto Lenneth. 

He was very much like a puppet, going through the motions of the celebrations. His strings pulled along by the people there, Randolf dragging him into the festivities and merriment of the day. Lezard could vaguely recall taking part in a conjuring contest, using his magics to garner impressed gasps from the watching crowd. Lenneth had been more interested in the wrestling and sword duels. He remembered that much at least.

And then there had been the dancing! Randolf and some woman whose name he could not remember, pulling Lenneth and Lezard apart. There had been other women, all eager to dance with him. All eager to distract him from his bride, all in an attempt to test Lezard's resolve towards his commitment to Lenneth. They needn't have bothered. To Lezard, these women barely existed. He danced with them, but was distracted, his eyes always seeking out Lenneth's form on the crowded floor.

He was always watching her. Marveling at her elegance as she danced, even as Lezard seethed with unnatural jealousy at the men who partnered up with his bride. The dance was a surreal agony, Lezard waiting for the chance to reunite with Lenneth. But always, there was factors working against his desires. The dancers working to keep them apart. How many times had Lezard tried to muscle his way through the crowd, intent on reclaiming his bride only to be caught up by laughing women. Two, even three at a time! They had sensed his impatience, and only delighted in it, keeping him away from Lenneth long enough for Lezard to lose sight of her.

He remembered how the giggling group of girls had tried to make him dizzy with their twirls. Lezard had barely paid attention to their antics, his body moving automatically as he scanned the crowd for his bride. She would be hard to miss, her exotic coloring making her stand out even among other Valkyries. This group of mortals didn't have a hope of hiding her, Lezard spying Lenneth who had been making her way off the dance floor. 

He'd watch as Lenneth moved with determined purpose, evading the men's attempts at drawing her back into the dance. Lezard would find himself wishing that he had that same ease, the man finding it difficult to get free of the women who danced around him. Politeness hadn't worked. In the end Lezard had had to be more forceful than the situation merited, his annoyance being betrayed by the harsh words he spoke. The women hadn't laughed then, uneasy as they had realized they had pushed their Lord too far. They were almost quiet then, shuffling out of the way so that Lezard could get free of the dancers.

He had lost sight of Lenneth during his tirade, that brief bit of anger focused on the women around him. Lezard would actually be anxious, searching the large ball room for any sign of his bride. Nearly every step of the way was impeded, people wanting to talk with him. To offer congratulations, and gossip, even speculate about what this marriage meant for the alliance between the two kingdoms. Again Lezard had had to be abrupt, his response curt, near distracted. He had almost resorted to shoving people aside, caring little about the egos he would have to soothe later.

It had soon become apparent Lenneth had left the ball room. It wasn't that big of a surprise, Lezard assuming Lenneth's tolerance for their guests' antics at an end. It was the same with him, Lezard agitated and wanting nothing more than to be alone with his bride. He hadn't deluded himself into thinking she wanted the same. Not with the difficulties existing between them, Lenneth upset and hurting over more than just Lezard's drunken attempts at seduction. He had stepped over a boundary then, doing damage Lezard hope wasn't unfixable. 

Failed seduction aside, Lezard understood what Lenneth really wanted. A commitment, and not just the one they had made to each other on this day. She wanted him to pledge his heart to her, or at the very least make the promise to try. But Lezard couldn't even give her that much, too conscious of how his love for her would be used against them both.

He had actually been nervous as he had gone after Lenneth. Walking through halls that had been empty, the guards having snuck away to do some celebrating of their own. He'd chastise them later for the abandonment of their duties, but at that moment he had been glad for the privacy. There was no eyes to watch him, no one to report back on where he had gone, and just who he had been following. The fact that Lenneth and Lezard would be alone this night, was something everyone would know about. But at the very least, they wouldn't be privy to explicit details.

It would take time to find her. Lezard had not dared to presume Lenneth would automatically go to the bedroom they would now share. He'd check several places, including the courtyard, before heading to the wing that was his private sanctum. It was quiet there, the sounds of the ballroom's celebrations not able to penetrate this deep into the castle.

He'd never forget the sight that awaited him, inside his bedroom. Lenneth, seated before his desk, her head bowed into her hands. She had truly looked vulnerable then, a great weariness about her. She hadn't been quite despairing, the Valkyrie too proud for tears. In that moment, Lezard had been grateful for her self discipline, the man knowing he wouldn't have been able to handle it if she had been crying. 

Even with Lenneth doing nothing more than just sitting there, it had been difficult. Lezard had not known what to say to her, standing there long enough in the doorway, that it had been Lenneth who had broken the silence. She'd actually inquire about the party, wondering if it had ended. It seemed such an innocent topic, but it had stirred unease in Lezard. When he had answered that his people had not had reason to celebrate in a long time, he had meant it. And just as he said that, Lezard had realized the next celebration by all rights should be one celebrating Hel's success against Odin. A success that wouldn't actually happen, if Lezard had any say about it. It was a troubling realization, Lezard's mood souring enough for Lenneth to notice. He couldn't even share his upset with her, Lezard instead trying for a smile, trying to guide the conversation away from that which would make him think about his planned betrayals.

It was more than just his Goddess he would be betraying. He was turning against his friends, against the very people of Flenceburg. All for that which continued to elude him, Lenneth guarding herself against loving Lezard. Was she worth it? Was she worth the effort, the worry, and the troubles? Lezard knew the answer was a definite yes, staring at her in a kind of awed fascination. Just looking at her made all manner of feelings swell up inside him, his heart actually hurting that this beautiful, strong and vibrant woman did not love him back.

He had tried to bury that hurt in the glib manner in which he had spoken to Lenneth. Almost teasing her which seemed to result only in her unease. Lezard hadn't been able to hide just how impatient he had become, the conversation zig zagging between casual talk that relaxed Lenneth, and words that only succeeded in coming off menacing. Lezard had known he was bungling things, but hadn't realized how badly until Lenneth had froze in response to his attempt at touching her hair.

To hide his own hurt, he had turned from her. Lenneth didn't run, didn't so much as inch away, a determined, down right defiant look in her eyes. His Goddess was so brave! He couldn't be any less, Lezard approaching Lenneth. His own bravery had nearly fled in the face of the words she had spoken, Lenneth talking of how he hadn't been the choice she would have made. Even though he had already known that, it had still hurt to hear. The pain and guilt would only grow worse, Lenneth talking about him as though he was a good man. He could have fallen over then and there, guilt eating away at him as he stopped her from saying anything more.

What happened next had been completely unexpected. Never in his wildest dreams had Lezard hoped for Lenneth to touch him. Especially on this night! He hadn't been able to resist her, taking her hand in his own. Raising it up so that he could brush kisses over the back of it. More talk would follow, Lezard seeing how he had surprised Lenneth with a moment of truth. She would step forward to reassure him, laying her hand on his cheek.

Even with guilt churning up his insides, desire had still bloomed at her touch. Lezard didn't know what sort of expression he had worn, trouble and desire surely competing for dominance. He would close the distance between them, uncertain but pleased that Lenneth didn't shy away. She'd actually hold herself still for his kiss, his own lips trembling over hers. Lezard would actually hold his breath, waiting, expecting Lenneth to push him away.

When she did not, he grew bolder, increasing the pressure on her lips. He felt the shift of her body, Lenneth actually leaning into his kiss. That was all the encouragement Lezard had needed, his own mouth becoming aggressive enough to make Lenneth yield and open. It would be the first true kiss they had shared, Lenneth neither asleep, nor trying to get away.

Lezard had to fight not to make a sound, fearing Lenneth wouldn't appreciate his moans. He was too conscious of her, not wanting to do anything that would cause her to back off. The last thing he wanted was Lenneth too close into herself!

But it was difficult to remain unaffected, to not be overcome by her nearness. She smelled good, and tasted even better, her sweet mouth prime pickings for his tongue. He wanted to groan in pure delight, Lezard struggling, warring with his own urges that told him to seize hold of her. Somehow he remained with his arms at his sides, the only connection between him and Lenneth being their mouths. It was why he first failed to notice just how badly she was trembling, Lenneth frightened and trying to hide it.

He put real feeling into the kisses, trying to impress upon her the love hidden inside his heart. Trying to warm her, to melt the ice she put up around her. She continued to hold herself still, her body stiff and unyielding where Lezard would have her grow soft and pliant. The clumsy way she returned his kiss spoke of Lenneth's inexperience, and Lezard was charmed all the more by her.

Some of his tension eased, Lezard losing that nervous edge. In the moment of their lips brushing together, he had put aside his troubles, trying to give himself over to the here and now. Nothing else mattered just then. Nothing and no one could touch them here in this moment, not the war, not his manipulations, not even his betrayals. There were all just excess baggage he briefly put aside. Here in this room, only Lenneth mattered. She was both his reward, and the goal he strove for, Lezard willing to do anything to gain her. To keep her.

He bowed his head against hers, forehead lightly resting against hers. The kiss had been broken, Lezard closing his eyes to listen to the sound of Lenneth breathing. It was heavier than normal, and he felt inordinately pleased with himself to have rendered her breathless. He still wanted to touch her, to sink his hands into her unbound hair. To see if it was as silk soft as he had imagined. Hard warrior that she was, Lenneth was still a woman, retaining all the pleasing softness of her body. 

There was nothing stopping him from touching her. He knew that. Just as Lezard knew Lenneth wouldn't fight him, not now that they were married. And still he had to nerve himself to move, to force his hands to touch her sleeve covered arms. She seemed to jolt back in reaction, Lezard tightening his grip in instinctive reaction. Even as he did that, he was shifting, bringing his lips to one corner of her mouth. Pressing the softest kiss there in an attempt to reassure her.

Lezard could tell he had failed by the trembles that shook through Lenneth's body. His eyes opened, Lezard fighting back a frown. He got his first good look at his bride since the kissing had started, and what he saw made dissatisfaction rock through him. 

Lenneth had her own eyes closed, a single tear drop clinging to her lowered lashes. She looked pale rather than flushed from enjoyment, a tension about her that strained the corners of her down turned mouth. She was shaking badly in his hands' hold, and yet for all her fright, Lenneth was trying to endure. All to go through with her duty to her new husband. He never once thought her a coward, even in the face of her fear. Lezard thought Lenneth was the utmost in brave, going forward to confront that which scared her most of all. He thought then how terrified she must be, and realized this was not the way he wanted things to be between them. 

A breath Lezard hadn't realized he had been holding, expelled out of him. He had made a decision. The only one he could given their circumstances. Lezard let go of Lenneth's arms, bringing his hands up to cup the sides of her face. Her eyelids trembled but did not open, staying closed for the feather light kisses Lezard pressed over them. He followed those gentle kisses with a grazing of his lips over her forehead, Lezard then dropping his hands to her shoulders. 

Her eyes did not open immediately, not until it became apparent he wasn't about to continue kissing her. Lezard was hit with that sad blue, a questioning look in her eyes as Lenneth stared up at him. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, words lost before he could speak them. What could he possibly say in this moment? How could he find the right words that would be reassuring and not the slightest in insulting? 

"Lezard?" Lenneth's uncertain voice, his divine bride studying him with a worried expression of her own. He was aware of his hands resting on her shoulders, Lezard not wanting to give up that slight contact between them.

"I'm sure you must be tired after today's excitement." He finally said. For one brief instant his fingers exerted pressure on her skin, Lezard loathe to let go of Lenneth. "You should rest Lenneth..." 

There was a slow blinking of her eyes, that unshed teardrop coming close to falling. But Lenneth didn't look as though she wanted to cry in the moment, the former Goddess more interested in figuring out what his words meant. For her, and for them. Lezard thought to help her in that regard, the man stiff as he forced himself to take his hands off of Lenneth, and step back.

Uncertainty flared stronger in her eyes, but Lenneth did not try to follow after him. "You want..me to go to sleep?" She spoke as though she couldn't believe it, as though Lezard had introduced a concept to her that was truly out there. He couldn't blame her. Sleep was the last thing he wanted Lenneth to do! But as badly as he wanted her, Lezard knew he couldn't force either one of them to go through with it. Not when Lenneth was so badly shaken, so disturbed by the mere thought of love making. 

A long beat of silence followed, and then Lezard gave an almost curt nod. She didn't quite frown, Lenneth studying him as though she could fathom the workings of his mind through sight alone. Lezard tried to give her a calm expression, not wanting to betray how tortured he felt over keeping things from progressing any further. He still wanted her so badly, it was frightening this desire of his. The strength of it, strumming through his awareness, his body having grown hot in such a short amount of time.

"Yes." He finally said, words almost hissing through clenched teeth. Lenneth gave him a disbelieving look, and Lezard supposed he couldn't blame her for that. Lenneth had to be aware on some level that he wanted her. Especially if she were to go on the past days, where he had tried to kiss her, and even attempted worse when he had been drunk. But never did he believed the former Goddess was aware of just how badly he yearned for her. He didn't think she would still be standing before him if Lenneth had known. 

Another one of those long pauses, as though Lenneth needed the time to process his answer. Brave being that she was, she still surprised him with her response. "Are you sure?"

He wasn't sure of anything but that he didn't want to hurt her. No more than he had already, Lezard fighting not to curl his hands into fists at his side. He gave her another nod, the movement stiff. Lenneth didn't quite frown, but neither did she retreat to the bed. 

"I don't understand." She finally said. He had to choke back a harsh sound, Lezard's words almost snapping at her in the moment.

"What is there to understand? It is late and I..."

"And you want me to go to sleep." Lenneth finished for him. "But why?"

"Why?" Lezard asked, and she nodded. When he made no attempt to answer, her frown became more pronounced. She'd actually reach up with her hand, tucking an unruly strand of hair over her ear. It was a gesture that betrayed some of her nervousness, Lenneth's cheeks pinkening slightly. It looked as though she was fighting the blush, but her eyes never strayed from him. Not even for the words she spoke, Lezard holding back a moan of frustration.

"It...it is our wedding night." Lenneth began, that brief bit of hesitation in her speech showing her own insecurity about what she was saying. "I thought...." Did her blush deepen in color? "There are expectations...things that must be done."

He drew in a ragged breath, Lezard in agony over how excruciating Lenneth was making things. The feeling was made even worse by having to watch her stumble about the subject of her inquiry. "Lenneth..." Lezard managed to speak, his head shaking in slight movement. "There is nothing...that is...we don't have to do anything. Nothing that you aren't prepared for." 

He didn't miss the sheer relief that flashed in her eyes, Lenneth expelling a deep sigh. Truth be known, it hurt him to see her so relieved over the thought of avoiding being bedded by him. Just as it was one more reminder that let him know she wasn't anywhere ready to take their relationship to so intimate a level. 

"You are a confusing man." Lenneth finally said. He wanted to laugh at that, a choked out sound that would hold a near hysterical edge to it. "You want me." She stated, ignoring the sound he made in response. "And yet now that you can have me, you deny yourself." Lezard didn't know what to say to that, merely nodding his head to show he had heard what she said. "This...YOU are not what I expected."

"Oh?"

"You don't act on your chance. Don't seize to take that which by all rights is yours. Other men wouldn't hesitate in your position." Lenneth told him, but it wasn't an accusation or an insult. She was simply stating a fact that surprised her. 

"Maybe the other men wouldn't care about your feelings." Lezard said in response. "Maybe all they would see is a trophy, the beautiful Goddess that they had been given. But I? I don't want to treat you like mere possession."

A weird flash of emotion in her eyes, that was gone before he could properly interpret it's meaning. "You would be one of the few then." 

"The men you speak of are a fool if that is how they view a wife." Lezard told her. "Especially one that was once a Goddess, a Valkyrie warrior!"

Her lips actually twitched then, as though she was fighting a smirk. "I have often been of that same opinion where men and their...appetites are concerned." Another intent look, as though she was trying to see into his soul. Whatever she read off him relaxed her, Lenneth losing some of her tension. 

"And you...know much about men's appetites?" Lezard couldn't help his curiosity. Lenneth didn't quite blush, relaxed enough to look away from him now.

"I have heard the stories." She said at last. "Even among the Valkyrie, there is talk." Another brushing back of her hair, Lenneth seeming frustrated how it continued to fall forward in it's loose state. 

"Talk?" He prodded, and she nodded.

"Yes." She looked back at him. "We Valkyrie have always known one of two fates await us. Death...or to be given away in marriage. Many welcome the former to a life spent under a man's thumb. But there is an abundant curiosity about the expectations of duty a wife would have."

Lezard wondered then what sort of stories the Valkyries told each other. He didn't think they could possible paint an accurate picture of married life. Not when the Valkyries knew little beyond the battlefield. 

"The Valkyrie fear little." Lenneth continued. A sigh escaped her then. "But the idea of being made useless? To be so hurt that no other option is left to you, but to be given away to play housewife to some man? To many, that is a fate worse than death."

"Including you." He noted.

She didn't deny it. "I made no pretense over my feelings in this regard."

"You are honest." Lezard praised her. Again that quick flash of something in her eyes, Lenneth appearing uneasy over his praising words. "It is a trait to be admired." He added, trying to chase away her unease.

"I suppose it is." She abruptly turned from him, and even that was a sign of how much she had relaxed around him. Lenneth no longer felt as though she had to be on constant guard, watching his every move. She'd actually walk away, going to stand by the open window. The breeze from the outside blew back her hair, Lenneth crossing her arms over her chest as though to warm herself.

He wondered what she was thinking. Lezard didn't know her nearly well enough to guess. He wanted to change that, wanted to start work on building trust between them. Talk would help in that matter, the words they spoke pivotal in building a relationship based on a deeper understanding. 

Smoothing his slightly damp palms over his jacket's front, Lezard walked over to Lenneth. He didn't stand too close, not wanting to annoy her with an invasion of her personal space. But it was close enough for her to be aware of him, Lezard studying the side of her face as she gazed out at the night sky. She was lovely with the moonlight casting down on her, but then Lenneth was always beautiful.

As always, he was reminded of just how much he delighted in simply looking at her. It was a delight that transformed his expression, though to what he did not know. Lezard was aware of how uncomfortable he could make Lenneth, and thus he tried to control it so he wasn't outright staring at her. He turned his attention to the view outside the window, though his every sense was attuned to the woman besides him.

The silence stretched on between them, the two together but standing apart. Lezard longed for contact of any kind, and yet held himself still so that not even his arm would brush against hers. And all the while he thought furiously on how to ease them into some kind of conversation, a task he was failing at, and failing most spectacularly. He wasn't used to being tongue tied around women, but then never had a woman held his attention the way Lenneth did. It left his normally intelligent mind fumbling, unable to quite think on what to say to her that wouldn't cause her upset or offense.

It was very fortunate for him, when Lenneth shifted besides him. He saw the flash of her blue eyes as she gave a sidelong glance to him, Lenneth taking it upon herself to break their silence. "I couldn't help but notice..." She began, only the slightest of hesitation in her voice.

"Yes?" Lezard said the word a bit too quick, inwardly wincing at how eager he had come off as.

Lenneth was without comment about his eager reaction, the woman turning to look not at him, but up at the ceiling. "Those runes." She said with a nod at the symbols painted in bronze. "I can sense the powerful spell upon them. The protection it offers. It makes me wonder...what?" She had noticed his reaction, Lezard staring so shocked and surprised at Lenneth.

"As ever you continue to amaze..." Lezard finally said, and meant it. And all because the spell he had painted into the ceiling, was such that not many would be able to sense it, let alone recognize it for the type of magic it was.

Lenneth seemed to have misunderstood his words, not quite laughing in response to his strong surprise. "Do not react so surprised, my Lord." She told him, looking very much like she wanted to smile at him. "Did I not tell you I had some training in magic during my time as Valkyrie?"

"Ah yes, I remember." Lezard quickly said. "I believe you said you dabbled in healing magics."

"Just a few minor spells." She confirmed. "For healing wounds and removing poison, that sort of thing."

"It's more than I can do." Lezard murmured, his tone almost wistful then. He quickly shrugged off the mood, glancing from Lenneth to the ceiling. "But yes, I am surprised. Not many, not even some of the most educated in the realm of magic, would be able to sense the spell, let alone what kind it is." He turned his attention back to Lenneth, seeing the surprise in her eyes. "I suppose it could have to do with what you once were, your divine nature lending itself to your abilities. I find it impressive either way... He meant it too, his mind already shifting into possibilities, Lezard wondering just what Lenneth could be capable of when it came to magic. 

"Is it really that impressive?" Lenneth asked.

"Oh it is!" He quickly assured her. "In addition to the protection spell the runes hold, I've also placed an enchantment on them meant to hide not only the power of the spell, but the existence of the runes painted on the ceiling. It would be invisible to all but the most accomplished of magi."

"I see." Lenneth has cast her gaze up to the ceiling again, studying the runes. He took advantage to stare at her, studying her not only with his eyes, but with his magic in an attempt to test what untold powers remained inside Lenneth. She felt his magic probing at her, Lenneth suddenly tensing, her body shifting away from his in a none too subtle attempt to get away. 

"Ah forgive me." Lezard said, a bit sheepish in the moment. "I couldn't help but be curious."

"Curious?"

"About how much...potential you hold for magic." Lezard explained. 

"I am a warrior, not a mage." Lenneth told him, then her expression turned frustrated. "I WAS a warrior..."

Guilt flared in him, Lezard reminded of how it was his fault Lenneth was no longer a Valkyrie. It was just one more thing he had to make up to her, somehow someway. Even if she should never discover the truth of his machinations, Lezard would hold himself accountable for the life in which he had stolen Lenneth from.

"You may no longer be able to wage Odin's war....but there are other ways for you to lead a fulfilling life." The look Lenneth gave him bordered on rude, a stern disbelieving of the words he had just said. Lezard forced a smile, trying to project a positive cheer he did not truly feel in the moment. "You just have to give your new life a chance. To find what fits you best." He blew out a nervous breath, glancing up at the protection spell again. "You know some healing magic...And you've shown a remarkable awareness in even noticing the magic I placed on this room. It makes me wonder just how much you are capable of..." His gaze lowered, Lezard seeing Lenneth was giving him her full attention. "If it would please you, I would not be against helping to further develop you magic abilities."

She considered this a long moment, before Lenneth's expression turned guarded. "I won't learn any dark arts." She was adamant about this. Lezard was not at all surprised she wouldn't want to sully her soul by learning the worst of the spells Hel had granted his people. 

"I would never even attempt to teach you those kinds." Lezard reassured her. "But a few offensive and defensive spells would do nicely to accompany your healing talents."

Again that long pause, Lenneth giving careful consideration to what Lezard had proposed. "I suppose...I would not be against it." She finally agreed. It was almost grudging, Lenneth locking eyes with him. "If I am to make a life here among the mages of Flenceburg, it might be best to adapt to your ways."

"Is that a yes then?" Lezard teased, already knowing the answer. Her nod earned a smile from him, Lezard not only happy but excited at the thought of teaching her. The lessons would offer an excuse to spend even more time with her, and might very well bring them together in ways that had nothing to do with learning magic. "Wonderful!" He exclaimed out loud, and meant it. "Tomorrow I will put aside some thought to what sort of spells to teach. I think it would serve you well, to have a mix of healing, attack and defense spells. Of course..." He frowned then. "I will have to find someone to tutor you should you wish to expend your repertoire of healing spells."

"You cannot do it yourself?" Lenneth asked, and he sighed, shaking his head no.

"I believe I mentioned to you once that I knew nearly every type of magic there is." Lenneth nodded to that. "Alas, healing magics was a subject skipped in my training."

"Whatever for?" Lenneth asked. "I would think healing magics would be the most useful of all to learn."

"It depends on your area of interest." Lezard said, then launched into an explanation. "There is a great cost to oneself where magic is concerned. Especially with the types of magic. The blacker the spell, the higher the price, until one finds they are no longer able to do even the small white magics." He grimaced then. "I'm sure you already know, healing spells are the whitest of the white...and all but useless to one such as me."

Her eyes flickered with emotion, Lenneth uncomfortable of the reminder of what sort of magi he was. "Why would you ever sacrifice your ability to heal?" She asked, voice a soft demand. "What possible allure could magic that black hold?"

He couldn't keep the sullen look from his eyes, Lezard abruptly turning away from Lenneth. "You speak as though I would have had a choice in the matter!" He was harsh then, words rattling out before Lenneth could respond. "Once my potential was realized, my life was mapped out before me. I was purposefully groomed for my position in Hel's kingdoms. To be a warrior on the front lines, rather than a healer." 

"Lezard..." He heard the rustle of her clothing behind him, Lenneth approaching him.

"I don't often regret having my choices taken from me in that regard." Lezard turned before she could nerve herself to touch him. He gave her a smile that was described as sickly as best. "The life Hel's given me, has given me money, power, status."

"But at such a high cost." Lenneth reminded him. His smile immediately faded. "Never mind that you can never truly trust the people around you, it's placed your soul in jeopardy."

How well he knew that! But Lezard didn't speak out loud his agreement. "It's also...brought you to me." He pointed out. Her own expression turned troubled, but Lenneth didn't argue against it. "If I wasn't holding this position, we would never have met..."

"We are both....puppets of our circumstances." Lenneth said in reply. "It seems we both had little choice when it came to the course our lives would run." She sighed then, her blues eyes holding that troubled look. "Like you, I was given little choice when it came to my life. I too was groomed, destined to become one of Odin's warriors from the moment of my birth."

"Do you ever regret that you didn't have a say in what you would become?" He was truly curious then.

"No. Not then. Not until recently." Her gaze lowered, and even though she said no more, Lezard knew what she meant. Her one regret being that which had led her to become mortal, the situation that had led to her being given to Lezard. His guilt flared in him, Lezard struggling to overcome the feelings it stirred inside. "For as far back as I can remember, I WANTED to be a Valkyrie."

Her words didn't quite distract Lezard from his guilty feelings, but it roused him enough to be surprised. "Wanted to? Even as a child?"

"Even then." Lenneth agreed. "I can remember watching my older sister Hrist, and feeling both excited and resentful. I resented that my father wouldn't allow me to begin my training sooner, I wanted to hold a sword so badly. To feel it's weight in my hand, to know what it felt like to swing it through the air. I used to spend hours just watching my sister train. Watching and waiting for the opportunity to do the same."

"That day couldn't come soon enough for me." She continued with the faintest glimmer of a smile. "Such excitement I felt! Even as I cut my hand on my first sword, I still couldn't lose that elation. The sight of all that blood was nearly enough to get my father to refuse to teach me any further. But even he could recognize the thirst I had for the sword. And just as I wouldn't be denied for much longer, my father knew it would be the same of Lord Odin. That eventually the time would come when Odin would demand I come to the heavens and fight in his name."

"Ah, and I bet your father realized it would be better to have an experienced Valkyrie, rather than send an untrained daughter up against Odin's enemies." Lezard noted and Lenneth nodded.

"My father loved all three of us. Maybe more than he should have, considering how hard it was on him to part from each of us. As much as he wanted to protect us from the future awaiting us, he understood what was required of him." Lenneth frowned. "It would have been easier on him if my mother had given him sons instead of daughters."

"If he had sons he wouldn't have had to give them up to Odin." Lezard said, and Lenneth nodded while still maintaining her frown. 

"Sons would have been better for him all around. Even the idea of training them to the sword would have been an easier idea to swallow. Especially during that time!" exclaimed Lenneth, her frown fading. "Back then, it was practically unheard of for a woman to fight. The einherjar we Valkyrie gained for battle? They were ALL men when I first began my tenure as Valkyrie. Women were expected to be home makers. To stay behind and birth babies while their men went to fight wars."

"What was it like growing up then?" Lezard asked. "To be so different from what was expected of women at the time?"

"Everyone knew what we were." Lenneth explained. "They knew my mother had once been a Valkyrie. And they knew what was expected of her three daughters. They more than tolerated us, they celebrated. They felt blessed to have not one but three young Goddesses living in their city." A strange sort of half smile crossed her lips. "I remember people leaving offerings on our front door. Sometimes the bolder ones, or the more desperate, would come to see us. Hoping for a blessing, for a miracle. But that wasn't what Valkyries do. We save lives and preserve the peace through fighting. We are not the ones people pray to for miracles and guidance." 

"But still they had to try." Lezard said, and Lenneth nodded. "It couldn't have been a very normal upbringing. Between all that training and the people downright worshipping you."

"It was all I ever knew." Lenneth stated simply.

"But did you ever have time for anything else?" Lezard asked. She looked confused, as though Lenneth couldn't imagine what that anything else could be. "Did you not ever..." He shrugged. "I don't know, have time for fun? Did you have friends beyond your sisters? Did you do the things a teenager would want to do? Did you not ever want to rebel from the life Odin set out before you?"

"No, never." Lenneth answered instantly. "I was dedicated to training for my duty."

"I see." Lezard murmured, then couldn't help from speaking plainly his thoughts. "It must have been hard on the neighborhood boys." Lenneth immediately frowned, her eyes showing her confusion over that statement. "I mean, if your sisters look anything like you, then there was three very beautiful Goddesses living among them. Unapproachable, driven by their duty. Unable and unwilling to make any type of commitment to a suitor hoping for a chance. You must have broken a lot of hearts back then..."

"I would not know." Lenneth said, tone and body having gone stiff.

"Trust me." Lezard smiled at her. "You most definitely would have. A beauty like you? Smart, talented, dedicated? They would be unable to resist falling for you." He couldn't keep from chuckling then, knowing any of those men would long be dead by now. "I dare say your father had no end to amount of volunteers when it came to men wanting to help train you."

Lenneth seemed to be considering this, before allowing a grudging agreement. "I do remember there being quite a revolving door when it came to the men who would spar against me and my sisters."

He was curious, and feeling the stirrings of jealousy towards those men. Lezard found himself hoping Lenneth had thoroughly whipped them in their sparring sessions. "Did you ever..." It was a delicate question to ask, Lezard finding he was driven to know. "Did you ever fancy any of the men who came to train with you?"

"Fancy?" She gave him a disbelieving look, before making a scoffing sound. "You mean to know if I was attracted to any of them? No. I neither had the time, nor interest for a suitor." 

"What did you have time for then?" Lezard asked. 

"I..." Lenneth looked like she really had to think about the question. "When I was not training, I spent much time with my younger sister Silmeria. Especially when she was not yet old enough to train with us."

"So you basically lived and breathed your training." Lezard mused, and she nodded. "Pardon me for this, but it seems to me, that you haven't really lived at all."

"Not lived?!" She took insult to that, Lenneth glowering at him. "I have been alive for centuries! I've fought and killed for longer than you've been alive! I have watched and seen the shaping of the realms and their people. I have done my part in protecting their peace, ensuring that the people can go on safely living. I..."

"You've only known fighting and death." Lezard interrupted her. "Even when you lived among the mortals, you kept yourself apart from them. It sounds to me as if you never gave yourself a chance to really feel, let alone enjoy the experiences of a life beyond the battlefield. What's more, I don't think you wanted that chance. Why? Were you afraid of finding out there could be something beyond the fighting? Something that would be equally fulfilling if not better than being Odin's battle maiden?"

Her jaw had dropped, Lenneth looking as stunned as she was incensed. "How dare you!!"

"Lenneth. I do not say this to be unkind, or to upset you. I just want to understand you. More than that, I want to help you. To get you to see there is more to life than what you have had to give up." He didn't quite smile at her, not trusting her reaction to such an expression at this point and time. "You might even find that you can be happy here."

"Happy...here?" She repeated, then scoffed at him. "As if it would be that easy!"

"It might be far easier than you're willing to let yourself believe." Lezard argued. "I know Flenceburg seems like little more than a viper's nest, full of ambitious people willing to back stab and betray. But that is only one side to the city. Get to know it. Learn the city, and it's people. We may surprise you."

Lenneth hesitated. "You really think there is merit to this land and it's people?"

"Of course I do!" Lezard quickly assured her. "I would not champion it so strongly if I didn't!" He stepped towards her, cautious as he reached for her hands. "Lenneth, this is my home. I grew up loving this land, enjoying this city, wanting to make it and the people here my own."

"And you succeeded." Lenneth noted, actually letting him hold her hands. "You are Flenceburg's ruler after all..."

In the moment he didn't try to remind her that he was ruler so long as Hel permitted, so long as no one toppled him from his position. It wouldn't have been the right thing to say, would have served only to remind Lenneth of the worst aspects of being in one of Hel's kingdoms. For now, he wanted her only to see the good, the positive Flenceburg had to offer.

"Becoming Lord of Flenceburg is more than I ever dared dream of as a child." He told her out loud. 

"What did you want then?" Lenneth asked, expression curious, words soft. It was as though she feared pressing him for so private a memory, but Lezard smiled to reassure her. What's more he gave it to her, answering her question honestly.

"I wanted a home. A home that was different from the orphanage, and even different from the mansion my talents would land me. I wanted a real home, full of warmth...I wanted parents who loved me, who cared what happened to me..."

"You wanted family..." Lenneth whispered. "You wanted to know the love and comfort of it."

"What child doesn't?" Lezard asked her. "Money is nice...but it can't replace the parents who threw you aside. It can't give you the answers as to why you've been abandoned." He felt vulnerable in the moment, naked and exposed before her. He tried to turn away, but it was Lenneth who seized hold of his hands now, stopping him from completely the turn.

"I don't know why your parents did what they did to you." She began. "I don't know the reasons that motivated them, or if they were good people. But I am...sorry for the hurt they caused you."

He didn't even try to deny that they had indeed hurt him. An indelible scar had been left on his heart, his soul. One he had never healed from, not after all those uncertain years as an unloved child. For all his power, the potential the others had seen in him, they had never once stopped to love the child he had been. They had been too greedy, too quick to curry favor with Hel through the use of Lezard.

"We can't change the past." He finally said. "We can only try to move on from it, to learn from our experiences."

"Those experiences shape us." Lenneth agreed. "Whether we won't them to or not." Her eyes lowered briefly, Lenneth looking at their hands held together. He didn't try to break free of her grip, and Lenneth didn't let go of him either.

"Good and bad, what experiences shaped you?" He asked, and Lenneth hesitated before answering.

"I will share a few with you, but only if you tell me about yours in return." The look she gave him could have passed for a teasing smile, Lenneth almost challenging him to further open himself up to her. Hesitant as he was, Lezard found himself nodding. He could think of no other way for trust to be built between them, for the foundations of their relationship to be laid, then through this sharing experience.

"All right." He said out loud, nervous but returning her smile. She'd give him that glimmer of a half smile in return, Lenneth allowing Lezard to lead her over to one corner of the room. A recently acquired love seat stood waiting for them, Lezard guiding Lenneth to sit on one end. He would take the other, the distance between them not as wide as it once would have been. As Lenneth's legs brushed against his, Lezard felt real hope that the time would come when the distance between them would be abolished. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	39. Thirty Nine

The darkness that came with sleep was no longer soothing to Lenneth. It couldn't be, what with the dreams that it ushered in. The nightmares and memories that plagued her. She was full of fear and uncertainties, rightfully concerned with the fate of her sisters. Even if Lenneth had wanted to forget, the dreams wouldn't have let her. They haunted her, mocking her with the cruel knowledge that Lenneth would most likely never know for sure the fates of her two sisters.

She wondered if it would always be like this. Wondered if she would always be so tortured when she slept. Lenneth let out the heaviest of sighs, her arm doing a tightening squeeze around what she thought might be a hard pillow. An answering squeeze across her chest was enough to startle Lenneth awake completely, the woman snapping open her eyes with haste. 

She first saw the light gray of his jacket, the lacy spill of his cravat covering over the coat's lapels. Her cheek was pressed against the soft velvet, and Lenneth could hear the slow, steady beats of Lezard's heart. She didn't look up immediately, slowly processing the fact that she was not only sleeping next to Lezard, but actively cuddling up against him.

Her arm was still around his waist, holding onto him just as securely as he held onto her. The weight of his arm rested on the top of her breasts, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. She didn't immediately draw back, Lenneth just staying in place. Taking stock of the situation and her surroundings. Remembering the moments that had led them here. They were not in Lezard's bed. That large piece of furniture lay undisturbed, blankets and pillows neatly arranged. Instead they were across from it, seated on the room's couch. A love seat.

Lenneth could remember sitting down next to Lezard. Her legs had brushed against his, but there had been a slight distance between them. It had been natural, the two sitting in comfort, relaxed around each other. There had been no expectations then, none of the pressures Lenneth had come to expect from Lezard. She had been able to enjoy an ease she hadn't felt in a while. An ease that hadn't been afforded to her since BEFORE she had awakened in Flenceburg. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. 

The whole night had been like that, none of her expectations being lived up to. Lenneth had expected Lezard to demand she make good on her marriage, on the vows she had sworn to him. Lenneth hadn't expected her heart to last the night, it along with her body, and the last of her resistance stolen from her. Lenneth had expected to wake up this morning, and be totally, hopelessly in love with Lezard.

That she wasn't, was a shock. Lenneth had never thought Lezard would be able to hold back. Or that the mage would hold such concern and respect for her, that he would put aside his own strong desires. But he had, and that went against everything Lenneth had expected of him. Lenneth had expected Lezard to fall on her with ravishing intent, his hands pawing at her body. She had been prepared to endure this, to endure it all, waging what little fight she could against the spell that tried to enchant her so thoroughly.

It had been a struggle when he had kissed her. Lenneth had fought against the spell, against the feelings stirred in her heart. She had wanted to melt into his kiss, while another part of her had screamed in protest. She had actually trembled, Lenneth so sure she was about to lose an irretrievable part of herself. It had been a most extreme of shocks when Lezard did not pursue her past the initial kisses. She hadn't been able to understand why. She still didn't, not completely. But she was thankful to Lezard, for the precious time he had given her.

The night she had so feared, had been a strange one instead. Strange but not unpleasant. With Lezard making it clear that they would do nothing Lenneth was not yet comfortable with, a burden had left her shoulders. She had relaxed, her ease increasing with every moment that passed free of Lezard's molestation. Lenneth wondered if Lezard knew just how great a gift he had given her, with his decision to wait. It was a luxury she suspected not many Valkyrie brides had received in the past, regardless of who their husbands had been. 

But then Lezard was not like the men who had married Valkyries in the past. Once she would have thought that a bad thing, but Lenneth was coming to respect Lezard for his uniqueness. Maybe even admire him for it. She wasn't thinking further than that, Lenneth at last lifting her head. Raising her eyes up towards his face. She met that bright, bold gaze of his, the amethyst color seeming to soften as Lezard smiled at Lenneth. That smile sent a flutter through her, Lenneth realizing with a shock something had changed. Between them and in her.

She almost lurched to her feet, Lenneth settling for slowly drawing away from her snuggled position against him. Lezard hadn't wanted to let her move away, his arm tightening possessively around her for an instant before the man reluctantly let go. Lenneth didn't go far, merely sitting up so that she no longer cuddled so relaxed against him. She never took her gaze off him, Lenneth staring, feeling the stirrings within her. It softened things inside her, made Lenneth far too susceptible to the smile he gave her. 

The feelings inside her had grown, now more potent than ever. She wasn't in love with Lezard, not truly. But she was close, Lenneth finding she liked him a whole lot more than she had had just hours earlier. She didn't completely understand it. Nor did Lenneth know why it had happened. What had been the trigger? What had Lezard done to foster such fond affection in her?

"What is it? What's wrong?" Lezard asked, his smile lessening as his concern increased. Lenneth quickly shook her head no, pressing the fingers of her right hand against his lips. It was a silencing gesture, Lenneth needing the quiet to think. To properly examine what had happened. Lezard took the hint, reaching up with a hand to close fingers around her wrist. She would have frowned if he had tried to kiss her hand, but for now Lezard behaved himself.

Just as he had behaved himself through the night. Except for the initial kissing, Lezard had done nothing sexual to her. He had behaved as a gentleman would, sitting with Lenneth, talking with her. Expressing a real interest in her past life. Just as she had been interested to hear about him, Lenneth asking questions and answering the ones Lezard had had about her. 

The conversation had extended well into the night, spilling into the morning. They had still been awake but barely, when the dawn's sun began spilling light in through the window. Lenneth remembered how they had stayed seated, their heads resting on the back of the love seat. Watching each other's face, as their eyes began to close. Both had fought sleep, but at some point they had lost. She couldn't even remember the last words spoken, sleep had been that sudden.

Lenneth didn't think anything that had been said would hold enough of an impact to make her feelings increase in intensity. It had to have been what hadn't happened. The selfless act Lezard had done, his restraint when it came to his desire for her, moving her in ways she had not been prepared for. Lenneth had thought her heart would be forever lost if she had had sex with Lezard, never realizing there was danger in holding back. That her heart beat quicker for him, could be blamed on what they hadn't done. And Lenneth couldn't even truly mind, grateful to Lezard for having the patience to hold back.

Lezard was still waiting for Lenneth to explain her reaction. She wasn't about to share her realization, Lenneth feeling heat warm her cheeks. Lezard's look only increased in concern, the man reaching with his other hand to cup one of her blushing cheeks. Lenneth had to fight with every ounce of her being not to lean into that touch. 

"I was just...startled." Lenneth finally, lamely said. He raised an eyebrow at that, Lezard clearly thinking it not enough of an explanation. "It was quite jarring, going from the dreams to so peaceful a setting." She tried to get her hand back, but Lezard wasn't giving it up so easily.

"What troubles your dreaming mind so?" He was always so concerned for her, even now. His fingers would sweep back the forward falling strands of her unbound hair, Lezard keeping his gaze on her face. 

"It's nothing." Lenneth dismissed. It earned her a frown from him, Lezard shaking his head no.

"It can't be nothing." He pointed out. "Nor can it be very restful, to be plagued by such dreams."

"No, it cannot be." Lenneth agreed with a sigh. "But I doubt talking about it would help...."

"It couldn't hurt to try." Lezard argued. He was still touching her hair, still holding onto her wrist. Those touches were a little distracting, Lenneth liking them more than she would have just hours ago. "Please Lenneth...let me lend my ear to your troubles."

It was a risky thing he offered, for Lenneth could have easily said what haunted her dreams was thoughts of him. But she couldn't be that cruel to him, Lenneth sighing. "It's about my sisters." Understanding colored his expression, his thumb caressing over the pulse point in her wrist. It was distracting, but not enough to get her to forget what she was saying. "Their uncertain fates, it troubles me. Haunts me, whether I am awake or asleep."

"But it is worse when you sleep, isn't it?" Lezard asked, and she nodded.

"Yes. At least when I am awake there are distractions. I don't ever completely forget what has happened, what could be happening even now....but it is easier to endure my worries during the day." 

"Is it the enchantment?" His expression did not betray what he was thinking as he asked that question. "Does fighting it help to distract you from your sisters' plight?"

She gave careful consideration to it, reaching out to touch his hand in reassurance. "Partly yes. But not just the enchantment. It's been the wedding, the distraction of it and dealing with Mystina...in meeting with your people...there's been much happening around me...to the point I cannot always be consumed with thoughts of my sister's fates." 

"Do you welcome those distractions?" Lezard asked, a contemplative look in his eyes. 

Lenneth didn't have to ask what he meant by that. "I do and I don't. Fighting the enchantment is a burden in a different way....It would easily consume me if I let it...To give in is to forget all that matters to me, until my only concern is thoughts of pleasing you." His expression flickered, an almost disturbed look in his eyes. "The enchantment would ruin me." She told him. "It would steal away that which makes me myself. I would be a shadow of my former self, ruled so easily by the one who kissed me awake...."

"Odin..." Lezard growled out the God's name, eyes looking angry then. She quickly touched his lips, silencing him before he could blasphemy against her King.

"He was only doing what he had to. A failure of my magnitude cannot go unpunished. He had to send a message to all other Valkyrie that such failure would not be tolerated." She slowly lowered her hand, Lenneth's expression downcast. "It was the right thing to do. The only thing, given I let my beloved sister be taken by the vampires...."

"You sound as though you are trying to convince yourself of that!" His heated exclamation drew her gaze upright, Lenneth frowning at Lezard. He moved to grasp both of her hands now, as though fearing she would try to get up and leave. "Lenneth, you have suffered enough. You lost your sister to the vampires. You saw the Valkyries and einherjar that accompanied you slaughtered...You alone survived the encounter...I think you punish yourself enough, without Odin adding to it."

"But..."

"I understand the need to not let failure stand. But it was pure malice to punish you for surviving! Because Lenneth, that is exactly what he's done!" Lezard was angry, his gaze looking like amethyst flames.

She couldn't match his anger, not in the moment. Instead Lenneth nearly whispered, staring at him unsettled. "Why does this upset you so?"

"Because I care for you!" It was almost as if he had blurted it out without thinking, Lezard looking as startled as Lenneth felt in the moment.

"You care for me?" She had to break free of his hand's hold, in order to catch at his face. Lezard had tried to look away from her at that moment, and even when she forced his gaze towards her, his expression was shifty. "What does that mean?"

His hands reached to cover the backs of hers on his face. "Lenneth, I like you. I think you are a beautiful, intelligent woman. Kind and with merit. One who deserves more than I can give you. I admire your spirit, the strengths you've shown. You haven't given in to the enchantment, even with the promise of relief it can offer you. Instead you fight it, and endure the fear you have for your sisters' fates. I think there is very few men who could not feel for you, once they got to know you." Lezard let out a shaky breath, almost chuckling then. "We've barely had any time together, and already you've impressed upon me your spirit. I enjoy our encounters, and I want more nights like this past one. I want to know you, and not the Lenneth whose very personality would be twisted by Odin's enchantment!"

Her eyes had widened by the time he had finished, Lenneth taken aback by the passion, the heat in which he had spoken about her. She felt warm inside, wondering if it was possible for this man to actually care for her. It wasn't love, Lezard himself had been careful to avoid using that word. But he seemed sincere in that he liked her. Liked her beyond the pleasures he could take from her body. Liked her enough to be concerned about her, to be upset by the punishment Odin had given her.

"Lezard..." She actually moved her fingers to do a brief caress on his cheeks. "Thank you."

His tone was gruff now, as though the mage was embarrassed. "You shouldn't have to thank someone for caring."

"Even when that caring is something I never expected to earn?" Lenneth questioned. "Lezard, you continue to surprise me. Oftentimes in pleasant ways. You don't behave anything like I expected a minion of Hel to act. You are kind, caring. Considerate of my situation. You don't seek to back stab and betray me, to use and abuse me. You seek to protect me from those that would. It makes me wonder if you are the exception, or if there are others in Hel's employ who can also be good and kind."

"We're not all monsters." Agreed Lezard. "But Lenneth, do be careful who you decide to trust."

"Yes, of course." She agreed with a nod. Lenneth lowered her hands then, fingers gliding free of Lezard's face. He no longer needed forcing to look at her, Lezard seeming to relax more than he had been just seconds ago.

"I still don't think it's right." Lezard grumbled to her. "Not just the use of the enchantment on you, but all of it. Odin should have been glad to have at least one of his valued Valkyries returned to him...." 

Privately, Lenneth agreed, though she wouldn't speak out loud a word against Odin's actions. "Odin had to do what he felt was right..." Lezard made a rude noise at that. "If he hadn't sought to punish me, I doubt very much I'd be here..."

"You'd have been the one to lead a hunting party after Brahms and your sister." Lezard guessed correctly.

"Yes...it's not a task I would have looked forward to. But Silmeria's soul needs to be saved. And that can only be accomplished if she is killed before she has her first feeding." Lenneth looked downwards, gazing at her hands folded on her lap. "I can only pray Silmeria is strong enough to resist the temptations of the blood calling to her. Just as I can pray my sister Hrist makes it to her in time..."

A comfort was given, Lezard's hand once again touching hers. She glanced up at him, her own eyes troubled. His gaze was back to being concerned. "Is Hrist strong enough to go up against Brahms?"

"I truly don't know." Lenneth whispered. "She is the strongest of we three sisters...She might succeed where I failed." She blinked, though her eyes were not wet. "I know that at least one of my sisters will be slain....maybe even both of them. Hrist might get to Silmeria before Brahms can intercede. She might kill her, only to be killed by Brahms. And I will never know for sure what has happened to either one of them!" Her anguish had slipped into her voice, Lenneth reaching up with a hand to brush back some of her hair.

"And that is what really bothers you." Noted Lezard, his eyes full of sympathy. "The not knowing what will happen, it tortures you every chance it gets." She could only nod in agreement. Lezard fell silent, a contemplative look on his face. 

Lenneth sat quietly next to him, her own thoughts thinking of her sisters. Wondering if Hrist's hunting party had reached the vampire's island home. Wondering how many would die in the fight that would break out. Lenneth even thought of the fear Silmeria might go through, knowing her own sister had come to kill her. Would Silmeria lay down gladly for Hrist's blade, or would she fight for her right to live? Lenneth supposed it all depended on whether or not Silmeria had fed yet.

If Silmeria had indeed fed already, she might lust for Valkyrie blood. Might yearn for the treat within the battle maidens' veins. How much more trying would this ordeal be, if Hrist had to fight to keep Silmeria from taking her neck? Hrist was not unfeeling. She would not enjoy having to fight and kill her own sister. Even if Silmeria had become a soulless monster, Hrist's duty would make her heart heavy. But neither would Hrist shirk such a duty. If she couldn't save Silmeria's soul, she'd still kill her. All to keep one less monster from walking the realms of Creation. 

Silmeria was doomed. Of that Lenneth was certain. She would die regardless of her soul's state, or at least the attempt would be made. Lenneth didn't know how many soldiers Odin would spare to this mission. Especially with the situation as it was in Asgard, the undead always on constant press towards seizing control of the realm. Odin's forces couldn't be divided too thinly. The majority had to remain behind, to concentrate on the battles that took place on Idavoll. 

They had suffered far too many losses. Too many Valkyries taken from their ranks. Silmeria was lost to them, as was Lenneth. Hrist might die before this was all over with. And there had been other Valkyries, Lenneth remembering the three that had accompanied her as part of Silmeria's escort. Even one Valkyrie was too much of a loss, but five or six in so short a time? It was unheard of and unacceptable!

She let out an unhappy sigh, Lenneth understanding it wasn't just the fate of her sisters that would torture her. It was the situation in Asgard, the war that she herself had been a part of for so long. Of course news trickled down into the other realms, but it wouldn't be the same to hear second hand the rumors of what was going on up there. Lenneth knew that words could easily be twisted, the truth being distorted or embellished. Nor would they be privy to the behind the scenes dealings that went on during the war. It wasn't all that unheard of for lies to be told, lies meant to comfort the populace, to keep the people of the realms from panicking. Lenneth was no longer privileged enough to be anything but another mortal, one who had no right to the many hidden details of the war.

She wasn't able to content herself with her new found status as civilian. There was so much she was missing out on, Lenneth wanting, needing to return to fight and command armies in Odin's name. She thought the only true peace she could find, was in the swinging of her blade, Lenneth fighting for the glory of the realms. She didn't know if it was possible to return to being a Valkyrie Goddess. But Lenneth knew she had to make every effort to try. Even if it meant betraying the kind man sitting next to her. The kind man who even now continued to care for her, Lezard breaking the silence with a question.

"What if...What if there was a way for you to get that information?" His expression was guarded, Lezard watching Lenneth's reaction carefully. "If there was a way to find out the fates of your two sisters....would you take it?"

Lenneth wanted to immediately say yes, but she was wary enough to know it wasn't a simple solution Lezard was contemplating. "I would do just about anything to know what has happened to Hrist and Silmeria. But I am aware the information might come at a price I am not willing to pay...."

"I guess that is something you will have to think about then..." Lezard said, then sighed. "There IS a way." She watched him, noting the hesitation he showed in speaking. "You know I have access to a deity...one who has a vested interested in the dealings in Asgard."

"Hel." Lenneth couldn't keep from hissing, understanding blooming with in her. "I would not ask your Queen for any favors!"

"I didn't think you would." Lezard was calm. "But if I were to ask for you?"

"I would not have you do this!" Lenneth protested vehemently. "To openly ask Hel for anything, invites disaster to your soul." 

"I think my soul is stained enough, that a little more smut won't matter much in the long run." He tried for a glib answer, but Lenneth saw how disturbed the state of his soul made Lezard feel.

"No. Lezard, do not do this. Not for me. Not for a woman you only just come to care about." She shook her head, distressed. "Even if you loved me, I would not want you endangering yourself in this way. I do not need to know. Not at the cost Hel would demand!"

"But Lenneth...."

"No, Lezard, no! Put such thoughts out of your mind." She insisted firmly. "I can endure the not knowing."

"Can you really?" Lezard demanded, which only increased Lenneth's upset. "Can you really go months, years without knowing for sure what happened to your sisters?"

"It will get better in time..." But even to herself, Lenneth sounded unconvincing. "Eventually, I will come to accept the fact that I will never know for certain what happened to Hrist and Silmeria."

"Lenneth..."

"Promise me." Lenneth demanded, reaching for his hands. "Promise me you will not, either openly, or behind my back, seek answers from your queen about this matter."

He gave her a sad smile then. "You concern yourself with my soul even now. Even knowing how blackened it must be from years in Hel's service." 

She stared unblinking at him, expression earnest. "From what you told me, you were never given a choice on what would happen. On what God you would follow. It is unfortunate, but undeniable that your own soul was jeopardized, by the very magic they had you learn. If I could...I would keep you from gaining any more sin on your soul..."

"This concern, this care....Is it the enchantment that makes you speak this way?"

She managed not to blush. "I don't believe the enchantment is at work." Lenneth told him, still holding his hands. "I simply cannot stand to see a good man in Hel's clutches." He started to make a protest, Lenneth speaking over him. "Yes, it's true. I don't know you very well. Maybe it's foolish of me, but my instincts have rarely let me down in the past. And they tell me there is good within you. A good Hel would snuff out. I don't know what crimes, what sins she has had you commit, but it is not to late to atone for them."

"Would that it were that simple..." Lezard sighed. "I've done so much in her name....there's little hope for my after life..." His gaze was unwavering as he looked at her. "I've no doubt where I will end up when I die...it would take a miracle to change that fate..."

She wanted to urge him to not give up hope, even as Lenneth realized the truth in what he said. There was little chance that Hel would give up his soul, not after all the time and expense the Goddess had put into grooming Lezard into the perfect minion for her. Hel held onto her people, tortured them, used them even once they were dead. She built up the humans, only to corrupt and destroy them. Laughing all the while as these mortals fought with each other for positions in her earthly kingdoms.

"Promise me..." Lenneth repeated, squeezing his hands. "Make whatever vows you must, but swear to me now, that you will not ask Hel for this favor..." 

Lezard hesitated a long moment, Lenneth staring at him, her expression urgent in it's worry. She feared he would not make the promise, that Lezard would gamble away more of his soul for a chance to please Lenneth. And that was something that was simply unacceptable to her!

"All right..." Lezard said at last, a heavy sigh of exasperation escaping him. "I won't ask Hel about your sisters." Lenneth couldn't fill with relief, still gripping Lezard's hands as she waited for him to seal the promise. "But Lenneth...if I can obtain the information another way. A way that doesn't involve Hel or any of her agents, then you better believe I will!"

"Yes, I understand." Lenneth nodded, Lezard twisting in her grip so that his hands were now returning the hold. He'd go as far as to lace their fingers together, Lezard lifting their joined hands to press one over his heart. The other he pressed against Lenneth's chest, linking them as proof of the promise he was making to her.

"I won't ask Hel about this." He promised. "But if I can find a way to give you peace of mind, then Lenneth? I promise I will use those means to do so."

"Thank you." Lenneth said, allowing some of her tension to ease out of her. Slowly, Lezard released their hands, the man smiling though it wasn't as happy as it had been when she had first awakened next to him. She couldn't guess for sure why that was, though Lenneth wondered if Lezard was unsettled by the talk about his soul. That he could be disturbed about it, was another thing that had tested Lenneth's preconceived notions. For the Valkyrie had always assumed those who dedicated themselves to Hel's service, cared nothing for their souls and the after life awaiting them. 

Lezard abruptly looked away from her, his gaze seeking out the open window. He seemed to be noting the position of the sun in the sky, which prompted Lenneth to ask a question. "How long do you think we slept for?"

"Not enough, given how late we stayed up talking." Answered Lezard. He glanced at her, and chuckled, the man slowly shaking off his unease. "No doubt most in the castle are passed out as well."

"Understandable, given how long the party was expected to last." Lenneth said, then gave a rueful shake of her head. "It sure surprised me. Just how much the nobility of Flenceburg like to party."

"Since we don't often get to do so, I'm afraid my people do go overboard when given a chance to celebrate something." His eyes had darkened, though as to what thoughts he was having, Lezard did not reveal. He quickly shook his head, brown bangs falling rakishly over his brow. "Whatever the case, it will be a while before anyone rouses themselves for a meal. What say we skipped the dining room, and take a lunch into town?"

"I would like that." Lenneth said, then nearly smiled. "We will take the horses with us?" It was amusing to see the way that question made him grimace, Lezard not at all eager for her to ride Obsidian a second time. He hesitated long enough with his answer, for Lenneth to turn pleading. "Please Lezard. Riding will be good for all of us."

"I...I suppose..." His reluctance was clear by the way he talked, slow and hesitant was his manner. "But you have to promise me you'll stick to a slow trot this time!"

"Of course." It was an easy enough promise to make, Lenneth delighting in the thought of riding Obsidian once more.

Lezard reached up to brush back his bangs, muttering something under his breath. "You and that horse are going to bring an early death to me, I just know it."

"There's no need to worry." Lenneth tried to reassure him. She couldn't keep her elation at bay in the moment, Lenneth sure her eyes were sparkling with her excitement. "Valkyries are excellent riders."

"I don't doubt your ability to ride. It's Obsidian's wild nature that makes me worry." Lezard retorted.

"He's just misunderstood." Lenneth replied. "The stallion has a sweet and gentle nature, when the right person is working with him."

"So far the only person he's shown that sweet nature to, is you." Lezard rose up off the love seat, his hands smoothing down the front of his jacket. "Ah...I have something for you."

"A gift?" Lenneth raised a brow at that. A present was the last thing she had been expecting. From Lezard or from anyone.

"Yes. Call it a thank you if you like." Lezard looked a little embarrassed then. "A gift to thank you for doing me the honor of marrying me."

Now it was Lenneth's turn to be embarrassed, the Valkyrie quickly looking away from Lezard's gaze. "I should hardly be thanked." She murmured, her fingers reaching to nervously play with her hair. "Given the trouble I've been, and the fact I haven't even lived up to my vows yet."

"You've done more than enough." Lezard quickly assured her. She couldn't quite look at him, flush faced and flustered. 

"How can you say that?" Lenneth demanded. "Last night could hardly be called living up to your expectations of me!" 

"I would not worry about that." She looked up at that, frowning at him. Lezard's expression was serious, his eyes intent on her. "We may not have spent the night in the traditional manner, but I find I cannot regret the time I did get to spend with you...the time we used getting to know one another." Now she really was going to blush, Lenneth fighting the warmth flooding her cheeks. He looked pleased at that, Lezard smiling.

"You'll get tired of talk soon enough." She predicted. 

"Perhaps." He agreed easy enough. "But I am sure the wait for you to be receptive to me, is worth it."

Her blush bloomed redder, Lenneth quickly looking away. Lezard's eyes had filled with their own heat at that last sentence uttered. It was almost as though in that moment, he had been imagining her surrender, desire for her flaring in his gaze. Lenneth couldn't even think up a retort to that, too dismayed by her embarrassment. Lezard walked away from her, stopping over towards a sturdy book shelf that was situated near to his desk. She watched him as he unerringly went for one book in particular, Lezard opening it up to reveal the hollowed out insides. Lenneth would sit up straighter, her eyes locked onto the key revealed, the night's frustration returning to her as she recalled how she had been unable to open his desk drawers.

Lezard didn't seem to notice the way Lenneth was watching him. Nor did he make any attempt to hide what they key was for. He'd use it, opening up one of the top most drawers of his desk. A long, square shaped case would be taken out, Lezard placing it on the desk long enough for the mage to return the key to the hollowed out book. He then retrieved the case, and carried it over to Lenneth. 

"It's not much..." He began, tone gruff. "I did not yet know you well enough to be able to ascertain what would not only be a suitable gift, but one you would want." He seemed apologetic as he handed the case to her, Lenneth noting it wasn't very heavy in her hands.

"Thank you..." Lenneth said automatically, moving to open the case at Lezard's urging. The inside was line with blue velvet, and there was a lighter shade of tissue paper hiding the contents from sight. She would gently ease aside the paper, finding the treasure hidden within. It was a necklace, both the chain and the pendant hanging from it, all delicately wrought silver. There was a sapphire jewel in the center of the pendant, humming with power. 

"I bought it because it suits your coloring." Lezard said, in response to her silent study of the necklace. "Perhaps a sword would have been better..."

"No, it's fine..." Lenneth reassured him. "It has a protection spell enchanted into it..."  
"A minor one..." Lezard confirmed. "Jewels are not the ideal focus for such spells. It takes a great deal of energy to enchant even a small spell into a jewel."

"The magic and the jewels resist each other..." Lenneth murmured, vaguely recalling a lesson she had once had hundreds of years ago. "Something about the properties that make up the jewels...it makes them shun most magic..." She finally looked away from the necklace, staring up at him appraisingly. "This must have cost you a lot of money..."

"The money matters not." Lezard quickly interrupted. "If the spell can help you in any way..."

"I'm not sure I am worthy of such a gift..."

"You are!" exclaimed Lezard, his tone passionate. "You are worth a million of those necklaces!"

She was startled, and more than a little touched. Until Lenneth remembered what she was, what she had been. She lowered her gaze, almost depressed as she sighed. "You must do everything you can to safe guard your Valkyrie bride. Punished though I may be, Odin would not be pleased if something were to happen to me..."

"Lenneth, that's not it...!" Lezard protested. She flinched this time when he touched her shoulder, Lenneth staring down at the case in her hands. 

"Thank you for the gift. I will be sure to wear it when we go out today." Her tone was a clear dismissal, Lenneth trying to get Lezard to drop the subject. That he didn't want to, was apparent, Lezard sounding frustrated as he talked.

"You are a person of value, regardless of what you had once been. That I seek to protect and care for you, it has nothing to do with Odin! Or with the alliance he would make with my Queen!" His hands squeezed on her shoulders, Lenneth drawing her gaze up to meet Lezard's. "Lenneth...I...I...."

"You what?" She asked. "What am I to you then? What purpose would you give me, if not that which allows Hel her chance to align with my King?"

"You're my wife." He finally said in answer. It only made her sigh, Lenneth thinking that was not a good enough answer. It had to be the enchantment making itself known, Lenneth wanting, needing Lezard to say she was more than just that to him.

"And you my husband." She said out loud. "We may have been joined together, but we are still strangers to one another. I suppose it is wrong of me to want that be different. Especially this soon...."

"It's not wrong." Lezard protested. "Given enough time and talk, I'm sure we could become something more..."

"But could you love me?" Lenneth asked, her voice an uncertain whisper. Damn it, but the enchantment made her feel too vulnerable around him, it and the small bit of love she felt for him, making her want things. Making Lenneth needy. She stared at Lezard, watching as his own expression closed up in response to her question. It was answer enough, Lenneth letting out a sad sigh. "Do you want to take the first bath, or should I?" 

"You can have it." Lezard stepped back from the love seat. "I will go make the preparations for our journey into the city."

"All right." Acknowledged Lenneth, but she didn't turn to watch him leave. She was too busy trying to stay composed, feeling sick with how she had exposed her weakness to him. The weakness that had her craving his love, Lenneth's fingers tightening on the necklace's case. She hated that she felt this way, Lenneth feeling grief that her heart was not completely her own. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	40. Forty

Brahms was drenched in blood, the precious liquid soaking into his clothes along with the splattered remains of less appetizing things. To his right stood a einherjar, some human soul whose legs trembled badly. The einherjar's hands were also unsteady, sword shaking badly in his grip. He not only knew what the vampire King was capable of, he had witnessed it first hand. Einherjar had been torn apart, Brahms' claws knowing no more mercy to those that had turned their back on his offer of salvation. It was the same for his vampires, the many men and women who made this island their home turning absolutely ruthless as they worked to kill off those who had dared to invade this land.

Brahms' vampires were especially vicious on this day. They had seen how the Valkyrie and their einherjar had turned up their noses on the chance Brahms had given them. How they had refused to grasp hold of the only opportunity that would ensure their continued survival, the Valkyries all but making a mockery of the truce the vampires' King had offered them. A truce that hadn't been popular among many of his own people, his vampires not understanding why any leniency would be shown to the enemy. Especially an enemy that had brought the fight to the vampire's only home, endangering not only their lives, but their one place of belonging.

The vampires were a persecuted race. Unlike the humans that made Midgard their home, or the giants that lay claim to Jotunheim, Brahms people only had their island. It wasn't even that big of an island, the land mass just barely capable of sustaining several hundred vampires at once. Unfortunately for the vampires, they existed in the thousands, many of the race forced to spend the entirety of their eternity waging war up in the heavens. 

It was a slap in the face that the Valkyrie would not only come to the vampire's island, but wage war on it's grounds. It was an insult, and one that couldn't go unpunished. Brahms knew that, just as he knew how foolish his actions would seem in trying to spare the Valkyrie. It left him with much explaining to do, his judgment being called into question yet again. But now was not the time for his detractors to call into doubt his right to be King. No, now was the time when both friend and foe to Brahms' crown united and worked together, to rid their home of this blight of Valkyrie.

It wasn't a quick process. The Valkyrie alone were a formidable opponent, each individual maiden worthy of several dozen soldiers alone. They had the strength and speed of Gods, and the wisdom of the ages. They had centuries worth of fighting and strategy to call upon, and not a single Valkyrie who had been sent to the vampire's island, was a novice when it came to dealing with the undead. Unfortunately for the Valkyrie and their einherjar, there was a large amount of elder vampires currently in residence on the island. 

Brahms refused to dwell on the disaster it would have been, had there only been fledglings residing on the island. Refused to think of the slaughter that would have ensued. Instead he kept focused on the battle at hand, his fangs and claws busy tearing apart any who came in reach. That included the einherjar who cowered before him, the man's eyes almost lost to the white of fear. His courage was faltering, and he wasn't the only one. Other einherjar were panicking, some attempting to retreat from the battlefield as one by one the Valkyries were slain.

Brahms himself had killed enough of the battle maidens to have grown bloated off their blood if he had so chosen. But ever conscious of the eyes upon him, Brahms had made the magnanimous decision to share the Valkyries' blood with others of his race. The fact that he didn't take all that blood for himself, would serve to heighten his image, vampires quick to forgive some of his more foolish decisions. But never forget, Brahms snarling as his claws tore open the einherjar's chest. The killing was brutal, but Brahms never once held back. He had seen what little his mercy had gotten him, the Valkyries all but spitting in his face, and his own people appalled. 

He couldn't change the past, nor did he want to when it came to the reason why the Valkyries had come to the island. His attacks didn't gentle as he recalled the woman who still lay sleeping inside his bed chamber. If anything, he became even more agitated, Brahms wanting to return to Silmeria's side. But the battle kept him away, kept him from doing what he really wanted in the moment. His restless desires would have him stand watch over Silmeria, spend every waking moment keeping guard over her and her alone. But Brahms was not a free agent, but a King. And with that crown came the responsibilities of a whole race of people. As much as he wanted to pamper and dote on his bride, he had to take care of the threat to his people first.

How many hours more would he spend on what was considered the front lawn of his castle? How many more would die at his hands? The numbers would continue to dwindle down, the Asgardians suffering far more losses than the vampires this day. It didn't mean his own people didn't die or get injured. There was many vampires who were hurt, their blood mingling with that of their enemies. Sometimes those wounds slowed the vampires down, but never did his people stop fighting. If anything they became more vicious, their intent to wound, to cripple, to kill. 

There would not be many left alive of the Valkyrie hunting party by the end. Even those few einherjar who had been spared from a killing blow, would soon find their life ended at the fangs of hungry vampires. The vampires wouldn't show no care or tender mercy to the captured einherjar, the men and women feeding eagerly, three, sometimes four vampires to a single person.

Even with the sharing, there wasn't enough blood for all his vampires to feed. Many would have to seek elsewhere for the blood they needed, those able to, teleporting off of the island while those who suffered the worst of the injuries, remaining to feast on the prisoners. When every drop was drained out of the prisoners' bodies, the corpses would be given to the monsters of the island. The undead would at last have their feast, greedily gobbling down every bite and leaving nothing but bones behind. 

The feasting couldn't completely appease his people, but it went a long way towards improving their moods. Vampires and their meals were scattered about the surrounding area, the screams of the einherjar slowly being muffled as those souls gave in to the oblivion that awaited them. His undead monsters waited impatiently at the edge of the forest, watching with hungry gazes.

Brahms himself was back on the ramparts of the castle, his watchful eyes studying the carnage below him. His still wet claws flexed, the vampire King finding it hard to calm down. It was not just the battle that had his energy so stirred, nor that of the chastising that would follow. In the moment he cared little for what his enemies would say, what they would find fault with of his actions this day. His thoughts were on Silmeria, Brahms waiting, wondering when and if she would wake up. That he could even doubt her awakening made him cringe, but it had been two days since the sun had forced her to sleep. Two days and one night, the former Goddess sleeping through that evening completely.

It worried Brahms, the vampire wondering if perhaps he had made a mistake. His blood was powerful, having had several millennia to refine itself. Could a fledgling, even one as strong as Silmeria had proven to be, handle such a drink? He didn't know. It had been centuries if not millennia since he had last allowed anyone to drink from his own vein. Perhaps his blood was no longer a viable drink, perhaps he had evolved to the point it would poison another vampire, overwhelming and shutting down their systems. Brahms could not say for sure, only going by what he had seen, Silmeria staying dead even with the stars blanketing the night sky.

It pained him to even think like this. To worry and wonder if the act that he had longed for, had instead brought about Silmeria's end. His claws curled, sharp tips digging into the palms of his hands. With the battle ended, there was little to do except think. To worry and let numerous fears form in his mind. But there was one thing he didn't think about. One path he refused to go down. Even as memories lingered in the wings, waiting for the chance to sweep him away into a recollection of pain and misery. It was a recollection he did not want, Brahms finding the experience once had been misery enough. And yet that misery, and the need for vengeance, had been the propelling force that kept Brahms moving. The force that had allowed Brahms to rise up from nothing, time and time again, until at last he had his own empire.

Brahms well new that empires could come and go, that kingdoms could crumble. Sometimes it took an army to destroy one, other times a single being. More vampires than he would have cared to count, considered Silmeria that destroying being. And if not her, then Brahms himself! And all because of that which he had set into motion by going after Silmeria. 

It left Brahms with much to atone for. His detractors would most likely gain even more vampires to ally with, and all because Brahms had shaken their faith in him. He couldn't simply kill off those most vocal against him, for that would reduce their numbers of elders by a drastic amount. Now more than ever, they needed the elders, needed them to continue making fledglings to bolster the size of their armies up in the heavens. For once where his crown was concerned, force wasn't the answer. Brahms had to be diplomatic, and he feared his skills as such had long since rusted from disuse.

Certainly no one would think him a diplomat in these moments, Brahms who was an imposing figure under normal circumstances, now even more so covered in the blood and gore of his enemies. He stood like a stone giant, glowering down from atop his perch on top the castle ramparts. Anyone who looked his way, could tell in an instant he was agitated. They might not know the reasons behind that agitation, but they knew enough to look away. Few if any would approach him, conscious that his claws were out, Brahms visibly showing how eager he was to continue to fight.

The sound of footsteps on the stone blocks that lined the pathway between the castle towers, had Brahms tensing. He did not fear a sudden attack, not with the one approaching him making so much noise. But he did worry for the news that approaching vampire was bringing him. Brahms would not turn to look the vampire's way, continuing to stare down at his vampires, who were now looting the corpses of the dead for weapons and any valuables they might have carried.

"What is it, Gideon?" Even with the heavy smell of blood clinging to the older looking man, Brahms had been able to pick up on Gideon's scent. There was a rustle of clothing behind him, the vampire with the salt and pepper colored hair doing the slightest of bows.

"We've finished assessing the damages." Gideon told him. "The castle has weathered worse from the elements than the attacks of today. We will not have to spend much time on repairs, thankfully."

"And the death tally?" Brahms grumbled. "How many of our people did we lose today?" Even one death would be intolerable, but Brahms was no fool. A battle like the one that had been fought on this island, was bound to have casualties on both sides.

"We're still actively searching for several notable figures." Gideon said, tone apologetic. "But as it stands, of the thirty-five that were slain, they were mostly fledglings, still too new to their powers."

"Mostly?" inquired Brahms with a sharp emphasis on the word.

"Ah..." Now his tone was bland. "It appears at least one of your detractors was killed during the fighting. An elder by the name of Rodoliant."

Brahms remember Rodoliant well, the man having been part of the group who sought to take the crown. Rodoliant himself had had no true aspirations to lead, the man several centuries too young to successfully rule over the vampire kingdom. But he had been pushing for another, helping to groom that vampire into a king Brahms' enemies could all get under. Unfortunately, the name of that upstart wanna be, had never been discovered. Not even by Gideon, who worked tirelessly to protect Brahms' crown.

"There are two others missing." Gideon continued when it became apparent Brahms was not going to speak. "No sign of their corpses."

"Do you think they ran?" Brahms asked, fighting not to gnash his teeth in anger. 

"It seems that way..."

"Cowards." Brahms spit out. There could be no excuse for abandoning their home. When it came to the elders and the power they wielded, even the absence of one could have changed the fate of the vampires. Brahms thought of the thirty-five said to have been killed, and felt that the numbers might have been less if the two elders hadn't run away.

"If they dare return..." Brahms began, but it was Gideon who finished the thought.

"They will be charged with treason, and summarily executed for their crime."

"Spread the word." Brahms ordered. "Our people must be made aware that such an act will not be tolerated. Especially by elders who should know better."

"Of course." But Gideon didn't immediately leave, instead lingering by Brahms side. It didn't take much skill or instinct to know the salt and pepper haired vampire had more on his mind, concerns he felt Brahms had to hear, regardless of his king's desire to seethe alone.

"What?" It was more anger than Brahms wanted to voice, but fortunately Gideon knew him well enough to not take offense at that growl.

"The..." An actual hesitation from Gideon, as though the man did not know what word to use. "Your bride's sister, and her man...."

"What about them?" Neither man tried to lower their voice, knowing there was little they could do if the vampires below them chose to eavesdrop. There was both benefit and hindrance in the sharp hearing of a vampire, making it difficult at times to maintain one's privacy on the island. There was of course rooms that could be enchanted to subdue the travel of sound, but such spells were costly, the mages prone to respond to the highest bidder. Brahms felt certain that if anything Gideon had to say was requiring true discretion, the vampire would have waited until they were elsewhere to bring it up.

"They're still on the island." 

Now that got Brahms to actually turn and look at Gideon. "What?!" It was a heated roar.

Gideon raised a hand in an effort to appease him. "You left the sister in no condition to travel. Certainly until her wounds heal, the pair will be at the mercy of the island." Gideon did not smile or smirk, simply stating plain fact. "It is unfortunate, but it takes more than one pair of hands to man even the smallest of vessels off this island."

"And the damn fools will most likely not tolerate any offer to assist them!" Brahms grumbled. He and Gideon both knew that the Valkyriie Hrist would go on the offensive the instant a vampire drew near to her. Hrist would mostly likely rather die than allow a vampire to lay hands on her, or to allow a vampire to teleport her off the island.

Gideon said nothing, expression patient as he waited for Brahms' assessment. "My orders still stand." Brahms told him. "Hrist and her lover, are to be left alone. We will of course monitor them from a distance, but so long as they continue to travel AWAY from the castle, we will not do them any harm." There was no need to ask what their fate would be, should the Valkyrie and her einherjar be foolish enough to return to the castle.

It would take much restraint on his vampire's part, the men and women having to hold back their natural impulse to go after the Valkyrie and the sweet blood contained in her veins. Especially one as hurt as Hrist had been at the end of her encounter with Brahms. Truthfully Brahms wasn't sure his people could resist such temptation, and he could only hope Hrist healed quick enough from her injuries so as to make her escape from the island.

Such was Gideon's loyalty, he did not complain about Brahms decision. He might not have approved, but never did he raise an objection. But Gideon knew as well as Brahms did that the order to leave Hrist alone would not prove popular. It was just one more thing that Brahms would have to explain and justify, and he feared his promise to Silmeria would not be a good enough reason to many of the vampires.

He had a lot to explain, and not just to the vampires. If, WHEN he corrected hastily, Silmeria woke, she would surely have questions for him. He wasn't sure how much of his memories she would choose to believe, but even if Silmeria tried to deny what the blood had showed her, there would still be a discussion. Brahms was prepared to shoot down all her arguments, all her insistences that what she had learned was lies. It wasn't a confrontation he was entirely looking forward to, Brahms not only despairing should Silmeria not accept his memories as truth, but embarrassed by some of what she may have seen.

But he refused to dwell on the memories now, refused to so much as think of the Goddess he had so wronged in his infancy as a vampire. For good or for bad, Hel was a part of his past, and as embarrassing as his behavior towards his former fiancee was, it had also helped shape him. Made him into someone different from who Brahms had been as a God. Most days he felt sure the vampire Brahms was an infinitely better being than whoever he had been as a God. But Silmeria had a way of making him doubt, of making Brahms almost ashamed of what he was. And that had been before Silmeria had even a glimmer of the truth behind his origins!

For all his long existence, Brahms had never had to truly answer for the things he had done in his past. Even Hel with her hatred, hadn't been able to do anything about what he had done, not so long as she remain bound to him as his blood slave. And though something, Odin most likely, had freed her of their link, Hel for all her anger and blustering, had never been able to successfully exact revenge on Brahms. Silmeria however, held the potential to be different. Her disappointment in him would be crushing, her disdain devastating. With just a few choice words, Silmeria could destroy him.

It was no wonder he was lingering outside the castle now. Silmeria wasn't even awake yet, and already Brahms was all but quaking in his boots. He feared rejection, feared Silmeria would turn her back so completely on him now that she knew the truth. Before, when she was ignorant of his past, Brahms had been able to reassure himself. To tell himself Silmeria felt the way she did because she knew nothing but the lies Odin had told about Brahms and the vampires. What if she looked at his past, accepted it as the truth, and still hated him? Something would surely shatter, Silmeria vanquishing his one chance at true happiness. When that happened, what would be left to him, save his vengeance against Odin?

Thoughts of Odin always raised his hackles, Brahms scowling in response. He wondered if he would ever get his chance to revenge himself upon Odin, to right the wrongs that God had done. The war between them had been never ending, and the only time a victor every seemed set to emerge, was when Odin had Brahms on the run. Brahms could only take comfort in the fact it had been a small eternity since he had been on the losing side of his fight with Odin. But coming out even was a long way from winning, and Brahms had allowed his need to avenge himself, his father, even Hel fester for far too many years. 

Brahms needed a resolution, not just for himself, but for the race he had created. He wanted, needed them to belong, to finally be allowed to live. It wasn't right that Odin punished the vampires simply because they were born of Brahms' blood. It was one of Brahms greatest wishes, to see his vampires thriving, accepted or at least tolerated by the other races of the realms. That once would have been enough to sustain him, but that was before he had encountered Silmeria.

He couldn't help that his thoughts kept coming back to the former Valkyrie. She who held so much power in her delicate hands. Power to make Brahms complete, to make him happy in a way no other being, man or woman, had ever been able. He had a feeling eternity would be worth living if Silmeria would only open her heart and accept him. He didn't know if he deserved that chance though, not after his mistakes with Hel. But Brahms was determined to grasp onto any sliver of chance Silmeria would give him, even as his relationship with the former Goddess put his crown in jeopardy.

Now that the fighting on the island was over with, Brahms had nothing to do but think. The way that his thoughts kept coming back to Silmeria, to what he hoped for, and even what he feared from her, let him know he wasn't going to accomplish much. Not tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow night, so long as he was left waiting for Silmeria to awaken. They needed to have that discussion, whatever direction it took, for Brahms to even hope of functioning beyond that of a mindless killing machine.

His claws were back to flexing, Brahms wanting to sink them in to someone. To tear out chunks of flesh from an opponent. It was fortunate his senses were so attuned, that his nose picked up Vandimeer's scent long before the vampire reached him. It was perhaps the only thing that kept Brahms from lashing out, from doling out pain to a man he considered one of his closest allies. 

Like Gideon, Vandimeer made a show of making as much noise as possible as he walked. Neither vampire had wanted the misfortune of sneaking up on their king, especially given his agitated state. That would have been the quickest way for a vampire to end up gutted by Brahms' claws.

Vandimeer was in mid bow, when Brahms turned to glare at him. The vampire hardly reacted to that look, or to the demanding growl Brahms let out. "Why are you not with Silmeria?" Vandimeer opened his mouth to answer, but Brahms was continuing, his tone menacing. "You know there are few I trust to watch over my bride." And even less that held enough power to deal with the threat of a Valkyrie like Hrist.

"Forgive me." Vandimeer said, straightening slowly from his bow. "But I thought you would like to know. Silmeria has awakened. She is up and about....."

"Awake?" breathed out Brahms, his eyes raising to the sky. It was still crowded with the storm clouds the vampire mages had summoned, blotting out the sun that had to have set by now. Brahms didn't wonder how he could have let night falling pass without his notice, the vampire well aware of how distracted his thoughts had had him. "How...how is she?"

"She seems agitated." Vandimeer told him. "More so than usual."

"I must go to her." As nervous as he was, it was not a tough decision to make. He NEEDED to see her, to look at her. To breathe in her scent, to even hold her if she would allow it.

Vandimeer was nodding, but as Brahms prepared to teleport, he reached out. His hand didn't quite touch Brahms' arm, fingers hovering over the blood stained gauntlet. "A word of advice...."

"Yes?" Brahms asked, though he was distracted, the energy gathering within him for the teleportation he was about to attempt.

"I would not go to her immediately." A gesture at Brahms' bloody state. "Not looking like this. Lady Silmeria will not appreciate you arriving covered in the blood of people who were part of her former life..."

The energy had been about to shift him into the castle, into the very room Silmeria paced. Now it seemed to explode inside him, Brahms wincing in response. But at least he hadn't teleported, realizing the merit of what Vandimeer suggested. "You're right." He said, and grimaced down at his torn clothing, and at the blood and gore that clung to his bare skin. "A quick bath is in order..."

"I will return to my post." Vanidmeer looked as though he was fighting a smile. "No one will disturb the lady so long as I stand guard."

Brahms nodded to him, knowing Silmeria was as safe as she could be, given it wasn't he himself who watched over her. It was with this confidence that he gathered the energy needed to teleport, Vandimeer being whisked away by his own energies, presumedly to return to Silmeria's side. Brahms himself would teleport inside the castle, to the chamber he had taken over as his temporary quarters. It was a large room, neat with barely a sign of having been occupied in recent days. Brahms barely gave notice to the room, save to do a probing with his senses to make sure he truly was alone. Once satisfied, he hurried into the bathing chamber, his clothing being stripped off as he ran.

Brahms was impatient as he bathed, the red colored water sloshing over the sides of the tub. Impatient though he was, he did not hurry. At least, he didn't rush the bath as quick as he could have, the vampire taking time to clean his claws so that not a trace of blood and grime remained. The scent of the carnage he had participated in, wouldn't wash away completely. Silmeria would be able to smell that he had killed this day, a vampire's sense of smell was simply too strong to hide away what Brahms had done.

Brahms wasn't ashamed of the deaths. Not when he had killed in order to protect not only Silmeria, but his vampires and their home. He wouldn't try to flaunt what he had done, but neither would he hide it. The Valkyrie and their einherjar, were the enemies of all vampires. That would remain a hard truth for as long as Odin continued to rule over Creation, maintaining his lies and vendetta.

A vendetta that even now targeted Silmeria. Odin feared her, feared the truth Silmeria would learn. Brahms wondered what power Odin thought it would give Silmeria, even as he knew there was another reason for the God to target his former Valkyrie. Silmeria held the potential to make Brahms happy, and petty as it was, Odin would never be able to tolerate the idea of his hated brother achieving true bliss. Odin would do his best to take Silmeria from Brahms, to destroy her and end whatever threat she might have been to Odin's own rule over the realms.

Whatever Silmeria decided, whatever she deemed truth from the memories his blood had shared with her, she was still a vampire. She would have to fight for the right to live in a world ruled by Odin. Regardless of what she believed, so long as Silmeria wanted to live, the divine assassins would come for her. Brahms had regrettably damned her in that way, her life forever in jeopardy.

He grimaced as he thought that unfortunate fact, Brahms raising a bucket of warm water to pour over his head. The water rinsed out his hair, and sluiced down his back. Brahms wouldn't even wait for his hair to dry, letting that impressive mane hang down straight rather than in it's usual spiked fashion. Just as he gave little regard to his hair, Brahms also didn't bother to fuss over his clothes. He'd put on the first clean outfit that he found, barely finishing lacing his boots before teleporting outside Silmeria's room.

Vandimeer was standing guard just before the open door. He smiled in greeting at his King, but Brahms barely noticed. His eyes were seeking out Silmeria, the vampiress having turned. She had sensed his arrival, perhaps even sensed the energy he had used to teleport to her. He got only a brief glimpse of her face, eyes that were now red, and looking far more startled than he had expected.

She didn't speak, and at her turning away from him, Brahms heart sunk just a little. He couldn't know for certain what was going on in her mind, but he felt it a rejection. And yet he wouldn't run, inhaling a deep breath as he tried to gather his courage to confront her.

"Leave us." Brahms ordered. Vandimeer was hardly surprised, taking only seconds to teleport away. Brahms would step into the room, allowing the newly repaired door to fall close behind him. Silmeria gave no reaction to that sound, drifting instead to the window. Her hand hovered over the sill, the vampiress not quite touching it. The enchantment on the window wouldn't have tolerated her touch, would have zapped her for sure.

Brahms wanted to walk over to her, to take her by the arms and force her to look at him. Instead he paced over to the chairs by the bed, though he didn't sit down. In the moment he was all riled energy, too tense to relax. He didn't even know what to say to her, where to begin. The examination of his past would hurt, and already he felt Silmeria stabbing her claws into him though she hadn't said a word.

The bed was not made, the sheets rumpled and tossed aside. It was no slow awakening Silmeria had done, but a frantic lurch free of the bed. Brahms wondered if his past, his memories had been that distasteful, that distressing to send her fleeing from them. He almost asked her then, his lips actually parting, the question half voiced when Silmeria spoke.

"They didn't leave the island, did they?"

There was no need to ask who the they was that she referred to. Brahms would slowly nod his head, a grimace on his lips. "They refused my generosity." To his surprise, Silmeria didn't bristle at his choice of words. Instead her shoulders slumped downwards, Silmeria looking the picture of grief.

"I knew there was a chance they wouldn't..." She all but whispered. "But still. I had to try..." She didn't ask if there was any survivors, for Silmeria knew better than that. Vampires rarely if ever took prisoners of war, preferring to feed off the blood of their enemies. It wasn't that different from the Valkyrie, the Asgardians killing all vampires and undead, rather than risk them getting free.

"Your efforts were not all in vain." Brahms tried to reassure her. "Your sister, Hrist and that man she traveled with. They alone still live." Silmeria seemed to sag with relief at those words.

"Thank you..." It was a surprising show of gratitude, Silmeria turning to cast him a sincere look. "Thank you for that..."

"Their fate is all but out of my hands." Brahms interrupted her. "Should Hrist decide to return to this castle...." 

"I can only pray that she won't..." Silmeria said, then made a dismayed sound. "Pray....such an odd concept for a vampire to embrace. Or...is it to you that they direct such things to?"

"To me?" Brahms asked, wanting to laugh at the idea. "No one has truly prayed to me in over a millennia...."

Silence descended upon them, Silmeria's gaze considering as she stared at him. He didn't shy away from that look, didn't so much as fidget. Instead he gazed back at her, eyes almost daring her to voice the questions they both so desperately wanted her to ask. Silmeria didn't step away from the window, but at least she didn't turn away from him. He'd spy her cute fangs which looked as small and delicate as the rest of Silmeria. The tips pressed into her bottom lip, but didn't draw blood. It was a betraying gesture, showing that Silmeria too was nervous.

"You've been forgotten." She finally said. "That's why they don't pray to you...."

"No, you're wrong." Brahms told her. "To be forgotten, I'd have to have existed in their memories in the first place." He gave her an unhappy smile. "Many of the races that populate the realms? They came after."

"After..." A slow blinking of her eyes, Silmeria seeming to strive to gather her courage. "After your fall from the heavens you mean?"

He couldn't exhale a relieved breath, not sure what to make of her question. Did this mean she accepted his memories as truth, or was it something else? But he didn't sense a disbelieving air about her, Silmeria more nervous than anything. Slowly, Brahms nodded a yes to her question.

"The einherjar I saw....they were...a kind of...fairy were they not?"

"The race that came before the elves." Brahms answered. "The fair folk were among the first to walk Creation under the guidance of the Gods."

Silmeria seemed to digest this tidbit of info, nodding slowly to herself. "The others would come later..." She whispered to herself. Brahms could only nod in response, waiting, breath practically held for what Silmeria would say next. "There are....so many questions I have. So many answers I need."

"Were not the memories in my blood answer enough?" Brahms asked her. 

She quickly shook her head no, seeming agitated. "They give me answers, yet leave a hundred more questions for me to ask!" Silmeria exclaimed. Her gaze searched out his, Silmeria taking a step towards him. Brahms held himself absolutely still, savoring her approach. He was so used to Silmeria backing away, so used to her attempts to avoid him being near. That she would willingly approach him now? It built his hopes up, the smallest of pleasures filling him, warming him.

"Questions..." Brahms managed to say when Silmeria stopped just short of his arms' reach. "What exactly do you wish to know?"

"Everything!" She exclaimed, an impatience vibrating through her. If the mood hadn't been so to tense, so serious, Brahms might have been amused. "There's so much.....I haven't the faintest idea where to begin..."

Brahms allowed himself a small smile. "How about we start at the beginning then?" He inquired, and Silmeria nodded.

"Yes, that would be best..." A lowering of her eyes, Silmeria seeming to gather up her courage before locking gazes with him once more. "You. You are a God?"

"I WAS a God." He corrected her. "I haven't been a true divine in years, since before most of the realms became populated with the races that dwell upon them now." She seemed to shiver in response, her expression hard to read. "What?" He asked softly, not truly expecting her to answer.

"I knew you were old..." Silmeria began. "But to have existed at the start of creation? That I did not expect."

"I am sure that applies to much of my past." Brahms told her. She nodded.

"I certainly wasn't expecting to....to learn what I did." Silmeria admitted. "I mean there were rumors....things whispered about among the races. But it's all been pure speculation...."

"The truth has been all but lost." Brahms agreed. "Odin has manipulated everything, ensuring that only lies about our feud, and the vampires remain." 

"And the vampire's reputation is such, that even if you were to speak up....few would believe you..." Silmeria said.

"Exactly. Without proof, without backing from the other Gods, who would dare believe the word of a monster?" A grim, humorless smile. "I cannot give my blood to every single being in Creation...and few would take Hel's word as proof even if the Goddess was willing to support me on this."

"Hel..." Silmeria frowned, the strangest look in her eyes. He was unable to interpret the true meaning behind that look, many of Silmeria's expressions still too unreadable to him. He hoped to change that one day, to be able to learn and understand all of the emotions that she experienced.

Except for the saying of Hel's name, Silmeria remained silent. It was a silence that stretched awkward between them, Brahms tensing once more. He wondered what Silmeria was thinking, wondered if she was privately recalling the complex, and far too sordid history that existed between him and the underworld's Goddess. There was far too much bad blood where he and Hel was concerned, a knot of tension working into Brahms' shoulders. He had done things, embarrassing things, shameful things, terrible things. He had been a victim to the parasite within him, preying on Hel in more ways then one. The line between cruelty and caring had often been blurred, Brahms using Hel even as he kept her alive. What if Silmeria found the things he had done unforgivable?

"Lord Odin....Odin has done Hel a disservice too." Silmeria said at last. Brahms practically choked on his worry, barely managing to gasp out an agreement.

"I am not the only one to have been forgotten."

"Hel at least, retained her divinity.....She has a place in Creation, even if many hate and fear her..." Silmeria pointed out.

"She was never meant to be so despised!" grumbled Brahms. "She would have....should have remained in the Heavens...She was an innocent..." He fought to keep from turning away from Silmeria's piercing gaze. "I ruined her..."

"It was not just you." He wondered if Silmeria was trying to be reassuring. "Odin had a hand in helping to bring down that Goddess."

"Odin has been cruel to her, it's true..." Brahms hesitated. "But where Hel is concerned, my hands are far dirtier than his."

"I'm not so sure I agree with that..." Silmeria's words were like a beacon of light, cutting through the darkness of the feelings that threatened to eat at him. "Odin is the one who set everything into motion from what I understand. It was Odin who created that which was meant to kill you...his greed for the throne of Creation, has led him to do despicable things...patricide, torture, attempted genocide of an entire race....if he had only honored your father's wishes...."

"I have long mused on the many whats that could have happened if Odin had been different..." Brahms admitted with a sigh. "But such thoughts accomplish little except to paint how bleak a picture the truth truly is...." He paused, needing to gather more courage. Funny how he could face a dozen or more Valkyrie in a single battle, and not know fear, and yet this talk with Silmeria almost scared him witless.

"Silmeria. You are taking this well." Once again they locked eyes, neither one willing to turn away. "Perhaps better than I dared hope or anticipate...."

"You want to know why. " It was a statement not a question, Silmeria in no doubt of Brahms answer.

"Yes. You could have had many different reactions....you still could...." Brahms held in his sigh. "You could have insisted the memories were false, that I speak of nothing but lies....."

"I wanted too..." Silmeria admitted. "I don't think you'll ever truly comprehend just how badly I wanted to cling to the truths as I have known them for my entire life.....But...." A biting of her lip, and then Silmeria was frowning. "The memories your blood gave me....they were just too real. Too detailed to have been created on a whim. The depth of feelings I gathered from the memories, your pain, your anger, even your shame.....in my heart, I don't believe that could have been faked."

Now she gave him an almost chastising look. "The blood....it's shown me the good and the bad, and even the ugly. I've seen things, experienced moments I think you would have preferred I did not. At times, those moments hardly offered a flattering image of you..." Wonders of wonders, an almost smile quirked the corner of her lips, Silmeria looking mildly amused. "You want me." It was a bold acknowledgment, the woman for once choosing not to flee from his need of her. "I doubt very much you would have shown me such things that might be detrimental to your.....courtship of me."

Now he was really embarrassed, mortified heat warming his face. "I wasn't always in control of my actions....not entirely..." He told her. "Especially when I first transformed.....and the hunger was....new to me. I behaved shamelessly and deplorably to Hel....."

"I do not know if I am any fit to judge you.....not when my own transformation...has led me to moments where...I could not, was not, myself..." The faintest pink bloomed on her cheeks. "I was out of control amongst your vampires....I couldn't contain my anger....or the new feelings my....transformation has brought me. How can I blame you for something I couldn't control myself?"

"It's one reason why I pushed you to feed..." Brahms said. "A stomach full of blood helps to avoid such loss of control..."

"You were trying to protect me....and those around me from such problems." Her blush grew more intense in color, the pink a darker shade now. "I see now I should have listened sooner..."

"You weren't ready." Brahms quickly reassured her. "You had a wealth of misconceptions about me, about the vampires. And until you were ready to live as one, you wouldn't have been ready for the truths my blood would give you...." 

"I'm not entirely sure I was ready for all that I learned. But...I suppose no one can truly prepare themselves for such a thing."

He managed a weak chuckle. "I lived it, and sometimes I think I am still not prepared for all that has happened to me, to Hel, to Creation itself!"

"It's been an awful burden for you, hasn't it?" Silmeria asked. "With no one to truly talk to, no one to share what has happened."

"Not to mention the only people who knew the truth, wanting to kill me." Brahms added. 

"You are even stronger than I first thought....You were able to endure it...to endure all that has happened to you, even the loneliness and despair....If I had been in your place....I don't think I would have survived those first days....not alone..." 

"You are not giving yourself enough credit!" Brahms protested. "You have your own strengths....were you not the first Valkyrie to enter the battle at age fourteen, years before you were frozen into your immortality?"

"That's not quite the same....I had my sisters. Not only to look up to and emulate, but to draw support from. They have always been there...lending me their strength. You however, were truly alone....abandoned by your bother, forgotten by all others. Even when...Hel was with you, you could not truly say you weren't alone....You went through the fire, and you didn't end up crazy."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure about that..." Brahms admitted.

"Believe me...I have your memories....and I have not come away from them with doubts to your sanity." Silmeria told him. "You've not only endured, you've of a sort managed to prosper, to carve out an existence for yourself as ruler of the undead...."

"The need for vengeance can be a great motivator." His expression darkened. "I cannot, will not die until Odin pays and all is set right within Creation!" Silmeria seemed to shiver in response to that. He hesitated, feeling vulnerable as he corrected his words. "At least...I used to think that way." Now he stepped forward to close the distance between them, reaching for her hands. "I have a reason beyond vengeance to live now...I have...I have you...."

Before he could get out the words, she was pressing two fingers against his lip. How Brahms wanted to kiss and taste those fingers, the vampire staring down at his bride. But her words were hardly the reassurance he would have her speak, Silmeria sounding almost desperate then. "Don't! Do not...do not put this burden on me...do not make me responsible for your happiness..."

"It's too late..." He whispered, watching as she shivered again. "It's always been too late....from the first moment I saw you.....perhaps to even before that....Hel, none of the Goddesses, moved me.....I cared, but did not love any of them. I thought myself incapable of love, long before I was ever infected by Odin's parasite. I know now I was waiting for the right one, the right woman to complete me....."

She drew away from him, looking shaken. "You've felt it too, haven't you?" Brahms continued ruthlessly. "The connection between us, the attraction that pulls us together? It's what kept me from killing you, what kept you from resisting my kiss that night on Idavoll....."

"Stop it...." She whispered, distressed. "Stop it!" Louder then, Silmeria fitfully shaking her head.

"You can accept my memories as truth, but not my feelings for you?" Brahms demanded, a hint of anger in his voice. She responded to the anger more than the words, glaring back at him. He held back his exasperation, understanding that perhaps now, on top of the truth of Odin's misdeeds, Brahms love, the attraction that existed for both himself and Silmeria, was too much for the girl to face. Odin's manipulations and tyranny was probably a much easier and more palatable opponent to face, than the idea of love and desire to a former Valkyrie who had never experienced such things before. Brahms could grudgingly understand and accept it, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He yearned for Silmeria, yearned for a closer bond and intimacy with her than had been experienced. He hadn't expected the memories his blood contained to make everything better, and indeed they hadn't, Silmeria still holding herself detached from him where her heart was concerned. Brahms didn't know what it would take, what would push her towards facing the attraction she felt, but he hoped he would lose his sanity completely waiting on her!

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	41. Forty One

Her pride wouldn't allow her to retreat more than a few steps from him, enough of a distance for Silmeria to easily avoid Brahms should he attempt to touch her once more. She told herself she wasn't being a coward or purposefully mean, that her intent wasn't to hurt him. At least not this time, Silmeria well recalling the things she had previously said to him, the vehement rejections she had given Brahms time and time again. Recalling those times, it was almost enough to bring another blush to her cheeks, Silmeria feeling oddly embarrassed. It wasn't that she thought herself wrong for those rejections. Brahms had after all, kidnapped and forced the vampire transformation on her. He had KILLED to ensure his claiming of her, and Silmeria was left in no doubt that he would continue to be without mercy to those who tried to take her from him.

The Valkyrie and einherjar who had died on this island were proof of that. She felt true pain at the thought of their slaughter, as well as a frustration for their mindless obedience to Odin. It was an obedience that had led them to their deaths at the vampires' hands, the Valkyrie refusing to accept the out offered by Brahms. And all because they didn't know any better, having spent centuries believing Odin's lies and manipulations.

But it wasn't just the Valkyrie who believed. Nearly all of Creation had been tricked by Odin, a whole race of beings persecuted unfairly. Even that race itself, the vampires, didn't know much better, only afforded the smallest truths about their nature. And all because Odin would not allow them any other way, the God killing any Brahms dared share the truth with. What a burden it must be for Brahms, to be the sole bearer of a truth Odin had tortured and killed to keep hidden. Silmeria felt the weight of that truth, the burden now shared between her and Brahms. She didn't think it lessened the load on the vampire, not when Brahms had real fear that Odin would double his efforts to destroy Silmeria, all on the off chance she had learned the truth about the God's misdeeds.

Silmeria was no coward, but even she felt a sliver of fear course through her at the thought of more divine assassins hunting for her head. But the fear was in no way strong enough to make her cower, or to wish she had never learned what she now knew. Even the thought of what she had become, of what she had lost, wasn't as bitter a pill to swallow as it once had been. Silmeria didn't embrace wholly her new life as a vampire, but she also knew she wouldn't have been able to stomach life as a Valkyrie who blindly followed a tyrant's orders, never questioning that a different side to reality as they knew it, might have existed. 

She didn't dare speak out loud how foolish she and the other Valkyrie were, for worry of the adamant agreement Brahms would have given her. He wasn't one to hold back his opinions, always ready to give her the hard facts that Silmeria often did not want to acknowledge. She didn't think him the type to rub words in her face, but in this moment? With his disappointment and hurt coloring his expression, Brahms having turned angry in response to yet another rejection from her? He just might say something then that neither one of them could abide by.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. Not this time. But it had been too much, too many cold truths on top of the expectations he had of her. Expectations she had tasted first hand in his memories, the attraction, the obsession, even what might be classified as love pulling Brahms to her. It was overwhelming, and maybe even downright frightening to be wanted that badly. To be needed so desperately, Brahms seeming to pin his every hope for happiness on Silmeria alone. Silmeria didn't think she could live up to his hopes, wasn't sure he wouldn't be ultimately disappointed in her. How could she make him happy, when Silmeria didn't know how to achieve that happiness for herself? She wasn't a normal person, she had been a minor deity, a Goddess. All she had ever known was the battlefield, and the lifetimes of training spent to make her a warrior worthy to fight in Odin's name. She didn't know how to truly live, and she wasn't even sure if Brahms knew how to either.

The memories she had obtained pointed strongly in favor of that thought, Brahms having spent eternity fighting one battle after another. If not Odin and the Valkyries, then Hel and her demons. There had been too few moments where he had ever had a true moment of peace, his life changed, almost ruined the day he had sunk his teeth into Hel's tender flesh, and gulped down the Goddess' blood. 

Even before that, when he had spent weeks, maybe months wasting away in his sick bed, Brahms had suffered. An unending hunger had wracked his gut with pain, unnatural urges filling him, dreams haunting him. Silmeria thought she couldn't recall a single moment of true happiness in Brahms' memories, a thing that was hardly surprising, given all that had happened to him. 

Even those brief glimpses that had been offered to her of the moments before Brahms had fallen ill, had been full of sadness. Brahms had been mourning his father, loathe to admit even to himself that the God was dying. She didn't know what his life had been like before that, before the blood parasite had wrecked so much havoc on Brahms and his father. Silmeria wondered if Brahms had ever known true happiness, if ever there had been a time where despair and loathing hadn't tormented him. But try as she might to search her memories, to call upon the blood that had been so eager to give her all of the vampire's history, Silmeria couldn't get any further into his past. It was frustrating and doubly so, given how she could recall near perfectly the things that had happened after Brahms had fallen sick. Was it that those memories were stronger, more potent in power? Had his life as a God been so inconsequential to him, the memories barely remembered? Or had he tossed away that part of his past, discarding everything that had to do with the Brahms that had been a God?

It was like holding only one half a book, the story pages torn out. Silmeria didn't like having the story be incomplete, the former Valkyrie frowning. She'd actually expel a breath, the sound of it more frustrated than she wanted. Brahms was all but glowering at her, the pair separated by more than the distance of a few feet. Silmeria had effectively put up a wall between them, Brahms still bearing the sting of her latest rejection. It was clear in his agitation, in the flexing of his claws, that Brahms had built up his hopes around what would happen once Silmeria accepted his memories. That she hadn't fallen immediately into the anticipated behavior irked him, but Silmeria couldn't truly worry about that now. She'd worry about any attraction between them later, right now she wanted answers that had little to do with lust and love.

"Why can I not see what happened before you were ravaged by the blood parasite?" Her soft voice broke the stony silence that had been maintained between them. Brahms' anger would not lessen dramatically, but his brows would draw together, the vampire lord blinking slowly. She didn't wait for him to gather his thoughts, plunging ahead. "I've tried and I've tried..." She admitted unashamedly. "But every time, no matter how hard I concentrate, the memories go back only so far....Why is that?"

"I don't know." 

She was surprised. "You don't? But I thought..." A sigh then. "If anyone would know every one of the intricacies of the vampires and their abilities, it would be you. Their Lord....their creator..." 

"Even I do not know everything." Brahms grumbled. "The blood in me, continues to evolve, to strengthen as does the...the predator within. Maybe it will never stop it's development...."

"Hmm..." Silmeria pondered this, recalling from the memories how it had taken Brahms centuries before he began to develop the powers that the vampire race was known for. The powers had not all come at once, it had taken time, real trial and error to learn how to use those new abilities effectively. The powers were a skill, and just like with any skill, one must train to become good at it's use.

Valkyries were not a race that evolved. Goddesses in their own right, they were stagnant so long as they were set into their immortality. Never aging, never changing. There had never been a chance to develop new powers, the Goddess stuck for good or for bad with that which Odin had gifted the race. Silmeria felt disgust to think how careful Odin was to control his pet Goddesses, even as she felt a rush of pleasure to realize that no longer applied to her. She was a vampire now, and though a part of her rebelled at her fate, it was quickly whittling down, overwhelmed by the interest she had in the new abilities she could one day develop.

It was a combination of that interest, and her need to know more, that led Silmeria to boldly ask Brahms about something she had thought to never truly want. "Your blood...If I drank more of it..." She almost flushed then, seeing the way desire swallowed up the crimson of his eyes. Brahms LIKED the thought of Silmeria drinking his blood. His claws actually curled, and it wasn't to attack. 

"You wish to feed?"

"IF I drink more from you..." Silmeria somehow found the strength to speak through her flustered reaction. "Would that let me see more?"

He let out a deep breath, but his all too apparent desire didn't tone down in the slightest. "I truly don't know....This...this blood sharing between us, is almost as new to me as it is to you..."

"But you shared blood with other vampires!" Silmeria quickly pointed out. She was surprised by the frustrated look he gave her, Brahms running a hand through his hair. It was drying now, strands starting to stand up in spikes, though the hair hadn't completely fluffed out into his familiar and impressive mane.

"It's been a long time since I've allowed any vampire to feed off my blood." Brahms told her. "And even longer since I fed off a vampire in turn." A brief look of grief in his eyes. "I've all but shut myself off from that kind of bonding....to give in to my need for it, would have been selfish."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, Silmeria unconsciously taking a step towards him. "Because of Odin..." She whispered knowingly. "Because of the death sentence those memories would have given them." A real shiver went through her, but Silmeria realized Odin would be after her, regardless of what she knew and did not know. Her kidnapping and subsequent transformation into a vampire, was an insult the King of Creation would not stand for. She was doomed to be a target, and Silmeria found she'd rather be a knowledgeable one, than continue on in ignorance.

"Yes..." His crimson eyes held a challenge in them. "Do you think me a coward for not sharing the truth with our people?"

She swallowed. "No...coward is not a word I would apply to you." But Silmeria didn't want to so much as think on the ways she would describe him otherwise. "It must have been very difficult...to spend your eternity being unable to share the truth with even a single soul...."

"Even worse to see the others gaining that wanted intimacy for themselves." Brahms whispered. "Being able to share blood and memories....It bonds people together, forms a deeper relationship."

"Like..like lovers?" Silmeria blushed at the way she had stammered out that question.

"Yes." Brahms agreed. "But it's not just about intimacy for a mated pair. Often a sire and his fledglings will share blood, to deepen the trust between them. Once those who wanted to prove they were the utmost in loyal to their King, would have offered me their blood. But that is a practice long since fallen out of use. Our people know I will not drink from them...."

"That sounds like it caused problems..." noted Silmeria.

"It has indeed." Brahms grimaced. "It is my right to refuse, just as it is their right to question that refusal. I have lost support for my rule, the fools never realizing I am protecting them with my refusal to share blood and memories."

"Your crown is in danger?!" exclaimed a startled Silmeria. This was news to her. "Is the sharing THAT important to them?" She asked, after Brahms had nodded his head yes.

"It is indeed. Much is based on it. The sharing is a very important part of our culture. We share with those we trust, those we love....it is a private and sacred experience, and those that would talk out of turn about the memories they received....well..." A grim smile. "It is not reflected well on those who betray another vampire's trust...."

"And you trusted me with your memories..." Silmeria whispered. She wanted to back up, to do a full out retreat from the look Brahms gave her. She found herself swallowing again, understanding it was no meaningless gift he had given her. "What if I share blood with another....what then?"

It was hard to describe the look of pure fury that filled his expression, the jealous gleam in his eyes, and the way he all but snarled at her. "No one would dare touch you in that way!" He was coming towards her, Silmeria giving in to the need to back up. She couldn't stop the gasp from escaping her, Silmeria insisting to herself she was not at all frightened by the possessive way he reached for her.

"Brahms!" She managed to say, voice a bit higher in pitch then she would have liked. Silmeria was sure her eyes were huge, staring back at him startled.

"You are MINE, Silmeria!" Brahms told her. She wanted to rebel at those words, but he was talking over her stammered out words. "There is much I will tolerate where you are concerned, but the one thing I will not stand for, is for you to get intimate with other men!"

She twisted in his grip, but could not break free completely. "You are hurting me." It wasn't entirely truthful, though her arms were sure to bear bruises from his rough hold. Brahms still furious, relaxed his grip, watching as Silmeria wrenched herself free the rest of the way.

"I could not bear it." He said, his expression hard, his voice an angry growl. "To see you give what you would not give me.....to see you with another...."

"Now just one minute!" Silmeria exclaimed. "I am not intending to get intimate like that with any other male." She managed not to blush, hoping Brahms didn't notice her clumsy choice of wording. "There are female vampires after all....what if I want to make a friend?"

"A friend?" His expression twisted into amusement. "With who? Surren?"

"What? NO! Anyone but her!" Silmeria protested. "Surely not all the vampires are like Surren and that other one..." 

"Risana..." Brahms murmured almost absentmindedly.

"I have to try, right?" Silmeria continued, thinking, hoping his anger was cooling down. "If I am going to live among your people...." She did a small shrug of her shoulders. "I have to make an effort. To get along with them, not go ballistic at the first bitch to come along. I have to do more than just live among them...if I want to thrive, doesn't that mean I should form relationships? To have people I can count on?" 

"Vandimeer and Gideon are as trust worthy as they come." Brahms told her.

"Yes, I'm sure you trust them implicitly." Silmeria answered. "But those are your friends. I need time. The time to develop my own opinions of the people around me. To judge who I deem worthy." A small, tremulous smile was offered him. "You don't intend to keep me isolated do you? To leave me dependent on you and you alone?"

Again that agitated movement, Brahms raking claws through his hair. "No...no..." He sounded like he was trying to remind himself of that too, Brahms sighing. "I want you to rule at my side, not be my prisoner...."

"Then..." Silmeria tried to keep calm, but she was sure he could hear the increase of her heart's beat. She was hopeful and excited, navigating difficult waters with an end finally in sight. That end came with the chance for more freedoms allowed to her, Silmeria trying to act indifferent as she made a suggestion. "You will allow me out of this room?"

Her heart beat was almost painful in her chest, Silmeria trying not to hold her breath as she waited for Brahms' answer. It was a long time coming, Brahms shifting a step back from her. His claws flexed, a betrayal of his agitation. "Some chaperoned excursions can be allowed....."

She tried not to frown. It wasn't what she wanted, Brahms denying her the freedom to come and go from this room as she pleased. "Only chaperoned ones?" She fought to keep her own anger from exploding at his nod. "So I what? Wait on your leisure....for you to have a free moment to baby-sit me?" Silmeria scoffed at his next nod. "Vandimeer can show me around." 

The look Brahms gave her made Silmeria think the jealous male was fighting to remember that Vandimeer was his trusted friend. "Vandimeer is not...as capable to handle things should...another incident like the one in the ball room happen."

"It will not." Silmeria insisted. He gave her a pointed look of disbelief. "I will be in control of my emotions, so long as I feed. There will not be a problem." Brahms remained unmoving, Silmeria wanting to stamp her foot down in tantrum. "At least take the enchantment off the window!"

"It is there as much for your protection as anything else..." Brahms' words had Silmeria letting out an infuriated sound, the vampiress turning her back on him. "Silmeria...this is a dangerous time. It's not just Odin's assassins you have to fear.....There are those who...."

"Tell me about your life before Odin infected you with the parasite." Silmeria interrupted.   
She didn't have to look at Brahms to guess he was frowning at her, his words grumbling under his breath about recalcitrant females. She was too angry at being denied, to properly be shamed, nor was Silmeria particularly interested in listening to any excuses Brahms could offer her in defense of his refusals.

"Only if you listen to me first." Brahms said, and she felt the heat of his hand as he touched her shoulder. She bit back a hiss, not realizing he had come so close to her.

"I'm listening." She said, still not turning to look at him. Again she felt his disapproval, as though his emotions were a tangible force.

"I have enemies to my crown....people who would love to use you against me...." He spoke in an urgent tone, his sharp tipped nails petting over her shoulder in a gentle way. It felt good, but never distracted her from her upset. "You must be wary..."

"Won't matter." Silmeria grumbled. "Never going to get out of this room without a baby sitter."

"Silmeria!" He grit out her name with such force, his hand turning her to look at him. "I do this not to punish but to protect you and my crown. There are dangers to you going out alone, and until you are better equip to navigate this new world I've brought you into....you will need a guide." His hand actually cupped her cheek, thumb caressing over her skin in a way that made her shiver and want to close her eyes. "Someone to teach you about our ways, and who to watch out for...." His tone was almost cajoling now. "You weren't just thrust into the Valkyrie lifestyle, you had your sisters to teach you, yes?" A reluctant nod from her. "And I am sure your sisters helped you learn about the rights and wrongs of the heavens so you wouldn't needlessly make mistakes that could not only embarrass you, but endanger you. I only seek to do the same..."

"Fine..." Silmeria couldn't quite keep the sullen tone out of her voice. "I understand." She lifted up a hand, finger wagging at him. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Wonders of wonders, Brahms relaxed enough to let out the smallest of chuckles. "I can appreciate your impatience. There's a whole new world for you to explore..."

"I very much intend to do that." She agreed. "But I am impatient for something else as well..."

"Blood?" Brahms inquired, and the heat in his eyes had nothing to do with his earlier anger. With his hand on her cheek, Brahms all but looming over her with his impressive presence, Silmeria couldn't stop the blush that bloomed within her.

"Blood would be nice.....for later..." She demurred. "What I want is answers, information about the life you led that the memories won't show me." 

Now it was Brahms turn to sigh, and she actually missed the feel of his hand when the vampire stepped away. "Why are you so persistent of that?"

Silmeria hesitated. "It's difficult to put in words." Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, Silmeria managing not to completely savage that flesh with her fangs. How could she admit that she was curious about him, that she was longing to know everything, hoping he had some kind of joy in his life before Odin thrust him into one tragedy after another.

"It's a life I lost." Brahms said in reply. 

"That lost was painful for you..." She acknowledged. "Does it hurt to be reminded of it? To think on your past as a God?"

He paused, shrugging. "I have thought of little aside from vengeance and survival for many years now."

"And loneliness..." Silmeria added as a whisper, remembering that keen emotion from his memories. He had long to connect with another being. It was that longing that had led him to experiment, creating the first revenants, and eventually the vampires. 

"Eternity is all the more difficult to get through when you are alone." He answered. 

"But you weren't alone in the beginning." Silmeria quickly said. "You had your father...." A hesitation then. "And a mother....?"

"Not for long." A dark look filled his eyes, giving Silmeria the feeling he was about to reveal something terrible. "My mother never recovered after birthing me....Too weak to do much of anything but lay in bed, I know little of her save that she loved me...."

"Oh Brahms...." breathed out Silmeria in pure sympathy. 

"Birthing a new God is a strain, even for a Goddess. Let alone a goddess who birth two within so short a period of time...." Brahms lowered his head, seeming ashamed. "If my mother had not gotten pregnant with me, she would still be alive...."

"You can't think that!" Silmeria exclaimed, even though she knew there was truth in some of what he said. A lot of time and energy went into creating a God. It wasn't at all like with the mortals, where all it really required to create a new human was a man and a woman to come together in sexual congress. When a God and Goddess made love, it required them both to desire and want to create a child. Only then could the Goddess get pregnant, her womb receiving not only the God's seed, but a generous portion of his power.

For all the Gods' power, even they were beings who had limits. A single person was never meant to hold the power of more than one God inside them. The very pregnancy always put the Goddess at risk, the baby inside her weakening her as it called upon her nurturing strength to slowly absorb the divine energy the father had gifted the child with. 

It ha been centuries since any full fledged deities had been born. Silmeria could not even recall a new God being created during her long tenure as a Valkyrie. There had been no real need, all the important tasks of Creation being fulfilled by Odin's pantheon. It was probably different during the time of Brahms father and mother. When creation had been new, there had most likely been a need to bolster their numbers, to create the race that would come to rule over the realms.

"You can't blame yourself..." Silmeria continued out loud. "If anything, your parents should have known not to try for a second child...."

"It was my fault." Brahms insisted. "If not for my creation....she wouldn't have died..." 

"If not for her sacrifice, you wouldn't have existed." Countered Silmeria. "You must realize...for all that's happened to you since, your mother WANTED you. She risked and ultimately gave up her life, to ensure you were brought into Creation." Brahms was frowning, shaking his head in denial. "Brahms..."

"She wouldn't have risked so much if she had known how it would have turned out for me, for the realms..." Brahms insisted. 

"But you're fighting to fix the wrongs Odin has committed!" Silmeria pointed out. 

"I've thus far failed...."

"But you've NEVER given up!" Silmeria retorted. "You keep fighting, keep on struggling. Not only to live, but to set right everything."

"So many would argue against that." Brahms said. "So many would insist Odin is on the right path, that my way will destroy everything the realms have ever known, and thrust the vampires into prospering over the other races." He gave her an odd look. "You yourself firmly believed similar until two nights ago."

Two nights ago, had she really been asleep that long? But she shrugged off that question, meeting his look with an unwavering one of her own. "I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know the truth behind Odin, behind everything."

"It's a little hard for me to believe your swift change of heart." Admitted Brahms. "You were born as one of Odin's Valkyries, you followed in his service for years...can you really embrace the truth that easily..."

"It's that doubt you have that prevents you from letting me out of this room." Grumbled Silmeria. "Brahms..." She knew what she was about to say would be painful for him to hear. "You have little to no experience with the sharing of memories through the blood. It's why I can excuse your ignorance." He bristled at her use of that word, but Silmeria ignored his reaction. "The blood memories left no doubt in my mind. I felt and answer the truth within them. Odin betrayed not only you, but your father as well. He broke a sacred promise made at his death bed. He never had any intention to share the throne of Creation...!"

"Silmeria..."

"Breaking oaths alone calls into doubt his character, but after experiencing your past, the evil Odin has done....it leaves little doubt in my mind that he is not fit to rule!" She exclaimed.

"I haven't exactly had the most stellar of moments either." Brahms reminded her.

"You made your mistakes, yes." Silmeria acknowledged. "But often times you were driven by the very thing Odin had poisoned you with!"

"I still did the sins...."

"It is not the same!" Silmeria said fiercely. "You have character where he does not."

"How can you be so sure?" Brahms argued. 

She hesitated. "I suppose I can't be. Not entirely. Not without knowing what kind of man you were before you became a vampire....But Brahms...I want to know. I want to confirm your existence, no matter what skin you wore. You were a God as well as a vampire, there must be meaning in both those lives....help me to see it!" Her look was as earnest as her words, Silmeria all but begging him to open up to her. 

Brahms gave Silmeria a searching look, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. She tried not to hold her breath, but at his nod it all rushed out of her. "Thank you." She murmured, and Brahms gave her a grim look.

"You may not thank me until after the tale is told."

"I acknowledge how difficult this may be for you." Silmeria said. "How much harder it may be too talk about your life, then it was to simply share the memories with me through your blood."

"It is difficult." He agreed, but not before giving her another intense look. "To speak about things left unsaid for several millennia..."

"Unsaid but not unthought of." Silmeria guessed. But she wasn't completely sure, recalling how in his memories, he hadn't taken much time to think about what had happened before that fateful day his father died. The Brahms in the memories had been most consumed by his self loathing and need to avenge both himself and his father, and later on the crimes committed against Hel.

Brahms moved away from her to take a seat near the bed. At a gesture from him, Silmeria glided over to the chair situated across from his, the vampiress sitting down with the natural born grace of a Goddess. 

Brahms did not immediately start speaking, enduring Silmeria's expectant look with a sort of half grimace of his own. "You know about the beginning of the world?"

"Yes, of course. In the beginning, there was two races.....the fairy beings who would come to acknowledge the Gods as their superiors."

"We called them the Sidhe." Brahms told her. "And it was the Sidhe who in turn gave the Gods their name."

"Now that I didn't know..." Silmeria admitted.

A faint smile in response from him. "The Sidhe and the Gods did not always get along. The fair folk would make the Gods prove their superiority in battle, but ultimately the Sidhe could not match the them in power or cunning." He leaned back against his chair's cushions. "Of course, this all happened many years before I was created. Odin and I both missed out on the excitement of the early days of the world..."

"I'm glad." At his questioning look, Silmeria hurried to continue. "You've had more than enough fighting in your life, without having to add to your battles." 

"Indeed. True peace has long eluded me." Brahms murmured. "It is something that I was born into a time of relative peace. Though my household was not without chaos....having one's mother lost....it is a devastating and crippling thing. My family felt the pain of it, my father never fully able to make up for the loss of her...."

"What was her name?" 

"Dagny." Brahms said. "It means brightness, new day." 

"Dagny...." repeated Silmeria.

"My mother truly lived to the promise of her name....she brought a brightness to everyone who knew her...when she was lost to us, it was as though shadows had permanently darkened our home..." Those shadows were in his eyes, Brahms expression bleak from the memories. "Sometimes I wonder...."

"Wonder what?" She prodded him.

"If Odin wouldn't have turned out differently if our mother had lived." 

"Maybe not." Argued Silmeria. "I mean you both had the same father to influence you....and yet...you two are not the same...That much was clear to me even in those brief moments of interaction in your memories."

"Still Odin took it hard to lose our mother...Especially given that she died to birth him a brother he did not want...." A humorless twist of his lips. "Odin did not want me, or have much need of me...you could say it was instant dislike on his part...and he did his best to ensure I would not foster any fondness for him in return..."

"He picked on you." Guessed Silmeria. She didn't have any personal experience with being bullied. She and her sisters had loved and cared for one another. But Silmeria had seen the behavior of other children at play, and even of siblings who seemed to take delight in tormenting each other. The boys of her city had been especially cruel at times, brothers bloodying each others noses, bruising faces with their fists. And given what she now knew about Odin's behavior and animosity towards Brahms, she could well imagine the things the God might have done to a helpless younger brother.

"As much as he could." Brahms confirmed out loud. "And what he couldn't do with his hands, he made use of with his words. He never let me forget my mother had died to bring me into the world..."

"Oh Brahms." Silmeria swelled with sympathy for him. 

"This does not excuse him, but Odin was young. Still too young to lose a mother...."

"I think we never reach an age where it is okay to lose a parent..." Silmeria said, her own mother thought of now. It had been centuries since her parents had died, and yet she still missed them. Worthy souls became einherjar, but what happened to those souls when the einherjar died? They simply faded, nowhere left for them to go. The second death, the death of a soul, was infinitely worse.

"How OLD was Odin at that time?" Silmeria asked out loud.

"Just a little over twenty human years." A wry smile from Brahms. "Barely more than an infant in the eyes of the Gods."

Silmeria nodded in understanding. Eternity stretched out before the divine, Gods having lived for thousands upon thousands of years. Even the most long lived of the races, the elves, couldn't hold a candle to the life span of a God. A twenty something year old Odin wouldn't have been considered mature then, not until he got at least several hundred years under his belt.

Not a true infant, a God that young would have the mental maturity of a teenage human. Able to make decisions, and show the true character of his personality. That Odin could pick on a child, on his own brother for a loss Brahms had had no control over? It lowered Silmeria's opinion even further of the God.

"I was a fast learner." Brahms continued. "I stayed away from Odin as much as I could during my formative years. I hid and ran as needed, until my own powers grew strong enough that I could fend for myself against him." He chuckled, but his eyes looked empty of warmth and amusement. "It helped that my father had me spend as much time as possible with my wet nurse's family." A small smile, but even that was marred by the sad look of his eyes. "Heimdall was more a brother to me than my own blood!"

"Heimdall...." Silmeria remembered the memory of how shocked and confused Brahms had been when the God Heimdall had not known him. It made sense now, Brahms having grown up with the God, united by bonds stronger than any the vampire had shared with Odin. How painful it must have been, to lose yet another person due to Odin's manipulations!

"He doesn't remember me....none of them do. Not as the God I once was." Brahms grimaced. "Odin's enchantments are strong....maybe they will never remember me...maybe not even if Odin dies...."

"You can't think like that" protested Silmeria, but even she had her doubts. If Odin could make such a strong enchantment, one able to wipe out the memories of such powerful beings like the Gods, what chance was there to break it.

"Odin has had millennia to perfect his craft." Brahms told her. "Even as children, I remember him always fiddling with spells, or brewing potions. He devoted more time to that craft than to the studies our father demanded of us..."

"Studies?"

"He was grooming us." Brahms explained. "Not only to be the perfect Gods, but to be able to rule over Creation in case something happened to him. It was he who taught us both how to use and wield our powers. My father would often allow us to sit in as he worked to develop the realms, to create new worlds for the races he would populate them with. Even then I recall Odin being downright envious of my father. For his skill and ease in creating these things." A smile, almost proud then. "My father was the most powerful of the Gods, and the most skilled at creating. Most of Creation as it exists now, owes their birth to him."

"Odin always wanted that kind of power, and the respect he thought came with it. But he didn't want to have to work to get good at it, or work to earn the other Gods' respect. He was lazy, and arrogant, slacking off often."

"What about you?" Silmeria asked.

'Me?" Brahms looked almost sheepish then. "I involved myself in my studies as much as a child could tolerate. I don't think I was a particularly good pupil but I was attentive. It..." A smirk then, a vicious humor over taking him. "Infuriated Odin. He thought me a suck up, clamoring for our father's attention. Not out of need or love, but for a more manipulative purpose."

"I remember." Silmeria said. "At your father's death bed, Odin accused you of pretending to be the devoted son...."

"Odin never had much in the way of understanding familial love and devotion." Was Brahms retort. "That he couldn't open his heart to me or to our father, left him questioning how we COULD do that. I think he might have even be jealous and resentful of the ease of my relationship with our father..."

"And those seeded the way for him to commit patricide, and attempt to murder you as well..." Silmeria murmured.

"I think my father...didn't want to live." The sudden admission had Silmeria's eyes widening. "The others...they admitted to me that my father was a changed man after the loss of my mother. Oh, he put on a brave show for his children, but..."

"Eternity is a long time to spend lonely..." Silmeria finished for him.

"Without Dagny, I don't think my father could will himself to live. If he had had the will, the drive, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he would have fed off of one of us....maybe he would have been the creator of the vampire race....Instead he entrusted Creation to the both of us. The throne of Creation should have been Odin's, by right of inheritance. He was the first born son...."

"But your father must have known how unsuitable Odin was to rule." Silmeria said. "Especially to rule without someone to keep him in check. That's why he split the throne...to avoid jilting Odin completely, he gave him half his inheritance..."

"It wasn't enough to appease Odin. Nor was he content to let me live to share his throne...." Brahms sighed. "I don't know when, or how exactly he infected me with the parasite....but though it did not kill me...it got him exactly what he wanted....."

"It's not fair..." Silmeria said.

"Little seldom is." Brahms' smile was sad. 

"You have had a hard time of it. Harder perhaps than anyone else in Creation." Silmeria said. "Harder than anyone should have to suffer..." He started to say something, but she continued over him. "You've told me nothing about your time as a God that leads me to believe you deserved what happened to you."

"My life did not end once I ceased to be a God." Brahms was quick to remind her. "I've made so many mistakes since then....Hel, the revenants, preying on mortals..."

"They were mistakes." Silmeria said, fighting to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. "Necessity led you through them...." But she remembered how he had kept Hel a virtual prisoner to him, feeding off her time and time again even once the Goddess made clear her extreme dislike. "You made the revenants by accident." She continued. "You made them because you were lonely...you wanted companionship. And the mortals you killed....that was before you learned to control the force of your bite, and learned just how much blood you could take from them without it being a killing experience."

"And how will you reason away what I did to Hel?" Brahms asked.

"I....." Her lashes lowered in defeat, her silence answer enough. 

"We vampires may not be the monsters Odin claims us to be....but I am different...."

"Only because you didn't have a sire to guide you!" Silmeria blurted out. "You had no one to help you, no one to teach you how to be a vampire...."

"You are kind." A thin smile. "And more forgiving of me than I am of myself."

"I think Brahms...you need to find a way to not only deal with your past, but to forgive and accept it. All of it." Silmeria told him. "Otherwise you will forever be caught in the grip of self loathing...." She had given him something to think about. Silmeria could see that in the look on his face, Brahms nodding to her. She found herself sincerely hoping he would find a way to forgive himself, knowing otherwise he would never be truly happy. And his happiness was beginning to matter to Silmeria, the woman wanting him to have a true moment of it amidst the darkness of his life. It was only fair, after the amount of pain and suffering he had endured, Silmeria insisting to herself she had no other reason than that.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
To Be Continued....


	42. Forty Two

It was a night that was proving to be a strange and surreal experience, an experience almost reminiscent of that long ago night on the back roads of Idavoll. But unlike that night, this one held little tension to it, Silmeria no longer confused and wondering if she should fear for her life. Brahms would not purposefully hurt her, so only that odd and intriguing attraction remained. Silmeria didn't always want to acknowledge that attraction, that pull of desire that existed between them. But she felt it all the same, the attraction perhaps more powerful now that Silmeria had been introduced to the truth behind the vampires and the origins of the feud between Odin and Brahms.

The truth had power to it, the power to make Silmeria accept, even forgive many things Brahms had done. She was no longer so angry, a calmness filling her. That calm centered her, and allowed Silmeria to relax enough that her claws were gone, nails reverting back to human fashion. It pleased her to see them, and Silmeria thought Brahms felt the same. He liked that she was no longer so agitated and tense, and his own claws had gone down as well.

Brahms was looking to be in as improved a mood as Silmeria, the vampire quite at ease now as he talked. His expression was no longer distorted with worry, he no longer vibrated with tension. He actually leaned back in his chair, his face animated as he told her stories of his time as a God. Now that the talk wasn't so centered on Odin, or on Brahms own dark and violent past, the vampire lord was finding it ever easier to share. Silmeria found herself privileged to hear the tales, to learn of surprising sides to the Gods and Goddesses she had served under.

Heimdall was featured often in these stories, Brahms having spent much of his youth and the years after with the God. The two had been close in age, the gap even narrower than that of the age difference between Odin and Brahms. Unlike Odin, Heimdall had been delighted by Brahms, the two openly branding each other brothers. The closeness and camaraderie Odin had denied Brahms, was received instead from Heimdall. 

It wasn't just Heimdall who had adored Brahms. His father, and his mother had also loved the God he had been, actively encouraging the friendship even when the two got into trouble. Silmeria could barely hold in her laughter, as Brahms spun a tale of how the prepubescent pair had gotten caught trying to spy on a bathing group of Sidhe females. How she had choked, Brahms' eyes holding an amused gleam as he recalled how the branch of the tree had broken under the boys' combined weight, and thus dumped the pair right into the middle of the group that had bathed in the lake.

The Sidhe females had been furious, their angry screams almost enough to deafen a less superior being's hearing. Brahms and Heimdall had tried to escape, but it had been the first time they had ever been exposed to such beauty, to the awe inspiring sights of a naked female in all her glory. It made them slower than they should have been, the Sidhe easily caching and restraining them. If not for the ruckus the Sidhe's screams had caused, rousing the attention of Heimdall's father, this might have turned into an incident that would have led to renewed tensions between the two races.

Brahms explained that though they had escaped a beating from the Sidhe females, they had not been so lucky where their fathers were concerned. Both men had tanned their son's hides, and the experience had been enough to get Brahms to keep away from bathing females for the foreseeable future. But it did not ensure he behaved entirely, other mishaps occurring. On what should have been a routine herb picking mission for Eir, Brahms and Heimdall had discovered a plant that when smoked let out a sweetly intoxicating scent. Unfortunately the two young Godlings had chosen to experiment with the plant just before an important ceremony was to happen. The entire pantheon of Gods and the Sidhe who served as their einherjar, had ended up high, many saying and doing things that led to awful embarrassments for each individual. There had even been some relationships that had been damaged almost beyond repair, friendships falling apart, a marriage dissolved.

The plant in question had another aspect to it, holding certain curative properties. The need for it's healing powers was what spared it from being destroyed, and a few Gods began to use it for it's recreational properties. Brahms admitted to some of the stranger aspects of the nine realms being owed to a God who had become most creative when stoned out of his mind. But no matter how much Silmeria begged and pleaded, he would not reveal just which God it had been.

Silmeria didn't pout for long. It was too hard to maintain a sullen air, not with the vivid stories of a fun youth to distract her. Brahms' time as a young God was so different from Silmeria's own experience. As a child, she hadn't played much, nor had she had a friend like Heimdall. She was closer to her sister Lenneth than to Hrist, but neither sister had known how to truly play. Oh there had been attempts by their parents, especially by their father. He had longed to interest all three into something other than swords and war. Silmeria remembered how he had never given up trying to tempt her with dolls, a different one showing up every few months. 

The dolls had remained on a shelf, unloved and ignored by all three sisters. Silmeria had much preferred playing games that inadvertently honed her skills, the girl learning to track a person through the game of hide and seek. Or increasing her running stamina in a game of chase. Even ball playing helped to coordinate her limbs, Silmeria becoming an expert at hitting targets with the soft ball.

Looking back now, Silmeria could see past her father's disappointment, to realize he had been in pain. He had wanted them to live, to experience as much life as they could before they were taken by Odin to serve up in the Heavens. A pity for all that the three sisters' desires had been in conflict with their father's, the girls not so much wild, but driven by the Valkyrie blood in their veins. The lesser Goddesses had been made for battle, and little could quench their desire for it.

It had taken Silmeria centuries before she had become so dissatisfied with the Valkyries' way of life. Created for battle though they may be, even a Valkyrie had to feel some sort of dismay when the same war was being fought out again and again, with no clear victor in sight. To Silmeria it had all become so meaningless, HER life meaningless. Silmeria had felt as though she wasn't truly accomplishing anything, save to kill a few hundred vampires and thousands of undead. But no matter how many died at her hands, more kept on coming, the war never-ending.

Silmeria had wanted a purpose beyond the fighting. She still did. She wasn't sure if a life with Brahms could give her that purpose, but already she felt freer than she had as a Valkyrie. He had given her the chance to live, to experience the wonders of life. She had thought that experience would be by Lord Rufus of Alfheim's side, but fate had had other plans. She didn't mind. As Lord Rufus' wife, she would have still been a puppet of Odin's, ignorant of the truth. Another reason existed, one that was purely selfish for Silmeria had been in a lot of pain after surviving the brutal attack of the vampires who had tried to kidnap her. The pain and her injuries had been such she would never have recovered, would have spent the rest of her mortal life suffering to some degree. Brahms bite had freed her from that pain, ushering her to new health and vitality. She owed him for that, and did not know how to properly thank him for it.

Perhaps just listening to him, was enough for now. In giving him her attention, she was giving him pleasure. He truly seemed to enjoy talking with her like this, his face far happier than she had ever recalled seeing. Silmeria could almost share Brahms' happiness, if not for some of the more troublesome aspects of her vampirism. The hunger had yet to rise in her, but Silmeria knew it was only a matter of time. Eventually she would have to feed, and yet she wasn't prepared to experience the pleasurable aspects of it again.

Silmeria had meant it when she had bemoaned to Brahms about how good it had felt. But good seemed an inadequate word to describe the feelings that had coursed through her. Pleasure like she had never known, pleasure that was as sensual as it was addicting, filling her. Her body had ached in ways that had little to do with pain, Silmeria having been shock to find her nipples growing tight and uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with cold. 

It hadn't been just her nipples. Warmth had rushed through her, riding in on the swallows of blood she had greedily guzzled down. As the blood went through her, her body had heated up, and molten liquid had dampened the flesh between her thighs. That had been especially troubling, for Silmeria had never experienced such arousal. She was innocent enough to not even know exactly what that dampness had meant, or the needy itch that had made it almost impossible to keep from grinding her thighs together.

The blood hadn't just made her body crave things. She had wanted the blood itself, wanting the life and vitality in it. It had tasted undeniably good, perhaps even better than the ambrosia enjoyed up in the Heavens. She had wanted more, hadn't wanted to stop, and only Brahms insistence had kept her from draining him of every drop. Even after she had sated the worst of her hunger, her gaze had been drawn to his neck. To the almost delicate looking pin pricks that   
had bled for her delight. 

As sensual as it had been, it had also been frightening. Her one hunger was satisfied, but a new one had risen up in it's place. She had wanted, needed someone to help her though it and yet hadn't dared ask. It would have been too many losses of control in one night for Silmeria had already found it near impossible to stop drinking from Brahms' neck. The taste of blood on her tongue had almost made her mindless, Silmeria so greedy and hungry for it. She knew, just knew, that if she had drunk from one of the humans that lived and served in the castle, she would have killed them. 

She might still. Silmeria didn't only remember Brahms difficulty when first encountering humans. She vaguely recalled his words, Brahms telling her she had to learn to control herself before she could feed on a mortal. Until then, he would personally see to her feedings, an idea he obviously relished. She even dimly recalled his own arousal, his own breathing harsh gasps as he struggled to deal with the repercussions desire had had on him.

Silmeria now knew why some found the vampires so seductive. They were the epitome of sexual beings, their bite bringing pleasure to both the giver and recipient. It was too much for the woman who had once been a Valkyrie Goddess, a maiden who had been all but ignorant of sexual desire. Silmeria couldn't see herself as a sexual being, not yet. It was even worse to think of others viewing her that way, or others reacting to her bite the way Brahms had had. Worse yet, she didn't want to be aroused when feeding off of strangers! It was mortifying, and just the thought alone brought a blush to her cheeks.

Brahms noticed. He seemed to notice everything about her, his gaze inquisitive as he stopped talking. She hadn't heard most of what he had just been saying, too lost in her own memories and thoughts about her first feeding. It made her blush harder to realize Brahms knew she had stopped listening, Silmeria trying not to fidget in her seat. That inner calm she had attained was gone, Silmeria feeling dreadfully embarrassed. 

It was almost enough to bring her claws out, Silmeria gripping the arm rest in response to her tension. She kept waiting for Brahms to ask her what was wrong, wondering how in the world could she admit to the thoughts she had been having. It would almost be better to lie, than to admit the new struggles the feeding had given her.

"Silmeria..." She almost closed her eyes at Brahms' now husky tone. It sounded like sex itself, seduction given a voice to whisper coaxingly to her. "You are hungry." He did a low chuckled at her startled response, his smile more than tolerant and holding open affection for her. "Your gaze keeps drawing to my neck, to here." His hand lifted, fingertips stroking over the marks of where she had bitten him. Mortified heat filled her, Silmeria starting to shake her head. But to deny hunger as the reason for her staring, would only invite Brahms to question her more deeply. And thus, blushing ever redder, Silmeria slowly nodded her head yes.

Brahms was pleased. Far too much for Silmeria's liking. But why shouldn't he be, when the act of feeding was an intimacy that helped to bond them closer. It was a pity for Silmeria that she wasn't yet ready for that kind of closeness, the girl hardly ready to act on her attraction to the vampire king. But she had to feed, sooner rather than later, and there was no one else she could practice on even if Brahms would allow her to bite another vampire. His jealousy, and her mortification worked together, keeping them in agreement about who alone Silmeria should feed from. But she didn't entirely like it. It was too much, too troubling to have these kind of strong reactions when she was just developing her feelings. Two nights ago, she had still viewed Brahms as an enemy, as an obsessed mad man who had all but ruined her. Though she had made the effort to correct her thoughts, it was still difficult to get used to. She didn't need further complications of lust and hunger confusing her!

Brahms remained sitting, his gaze fixed on her. She felt a tightening deep in her body, parts unnamed clenching with violent need. She couldn't possibly turn any redder, Silmeria digging nails that had become claws yet again into the armrest, actually tearing grooves into the expensive fabric. "Sorry." She murmured, but she didn't really care about the damage to the chair. And from the look Brahms was giving her, neither did he!

"Come here." It was more invitation than order, Brahms extending a hand towards her. He waited patiently for her to take it, but Silmeria remained rooted in her seat. "Silmeria?" 

"Can we leave this room....?" She blurted out. "After...?"

"There are reasons we shouldn't." Brahms retorted, but even that couldn't entirely distract her from her embarrassment and the strange, downright frightening arousal starting within her. Heavens help her, she hadn't even fed yet, and just the thoughts, the look on Brahms face was enough to get her to react.

"What reasons?" She asked out loud, but so distracted by the sensations was she, that Silmeria barely cared to hear his answer. 

"This is not a good time for you to be seen." Brahms explained. "The others...they will be angry....they will not want the reminder that some of our people died because of an invasion brought about by my desire for you."

On one level she understood what he was saying, but on another, it was all gibberish. "Please...?" What was she really begging for, Silmeria wondered. For blood? For the chance to get out of this now stifling atmosphere, or for that which would bring relief to her feverish body?

Brahms paused, letting the silence drag out between them. Silmeria fought to keep from squirming in place, her thighs clamped firmly together. "All right." Brahms conceded at last. "There is a place I can take you. A place where not many if any vampires will go to on this night." It wasn't as big a relief as she had hoped, Silmeria shifting now, uncomfortable in her own skin. "But..." Brahms held up two fingers. "There are conditions."

"Conditions?"

"You must feed before we go there." Brahms told her. "And you must promise to return with me to this room at the first sign of trouble."

"Trouble...?" But she couldn't really focus. "I won't repeat my behavior of the night in the ball room...."

"That is not my only concern..." Brahms again extend his hand towards her. "Come Silmeria. Come, take what you want."

His smile said he knew just how tempting his words were, Silmeria almost unthinking as she rose up out of her seat. It wasn't much of a distance that separated them, Silmeria gliding forward on silent feet. Taking hold of Brahms hand. Too late did she realize the touch would allow him to feel just how badly she trembled, and Silmeria could only hope he would be without comment about that aspect of her state.

Brahms' fingers closed around her hand, a secure but not restricting hold that drew her closer. She did not press against him completely, holding them separate that last intimate inch. Brahms crimson colored eyes had darkened, Silmeria staring wide eyed into them.

"How hungry are you?" He asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"It...it is manageable..." Silmeria told him, which wasn't a lie. The hunger stirred in her, but it was weak, holding a more lazy interest in the drink offered. She wasn't anywhere near ready to turn savage, and not even the scent of blood that tainted the clean scent of his recent bath could make her lose the last of her frayed control. She took several deep breaths, his spicy masculine smell was flavored with blood and his arousal. The gears clicked into place, Silmeria making a mortified sound, trying to pull away. Brahms held onto her hand, his other arm snaking around her back, keeping her before him. For once she wasn't thinking of the sensations, instead horrified at the new realization she had just had. If she could smell Brahms arousal, then he could certainly smell HERS!

"Easy Silmeria..." Brahms had forced her against him, fitting her slender body perfect against his. His breath was hot on her ear, voice rasping out in a manner that was not soothing in the slightest. "You will not hurt me..."

That wasn't at all what she was concerned about at the moment, Silmeria holding herself still against him. Every time she breathed in, she smelled his intriguing scent, her cheeks staying in a permanent flush in response to her own arousal. Why was feeding so erotic, why was this man such a temptation to her? It wasn't the first time she had felt this way, Silmeria remembering vaguely the night in the ball room. She hadn't been in control then, but that mindless predator she had behaved as, had responded to Brahms. And that night, the vampiress hadn't had any feelings of embarrassment and fright to deal with, Silmeria simply wanting and trying to claim that that she had desired.

"I think it's time for the first of your lessons." Brahms was saying.

"Le...lessons...?" Silmeria stammered out, trying desperate to appear a part of this conversation. 

"There is much you need to learn, in order to function in your new society." Brahms told her. "The most basic of course is centered around feeding." His lips practically caressed over her skin as he talked, Silmeria's pulse pounding hard.

"This...this isn't a good idea." She said. "Now is not the time..."

"The hunger is still weak inside you. You will be able to exert better control over your actions." His words made a mockery of themselves, Silmeria feeling completely out of control in the moment. But she couldn't, wouldn't admit to that, fearing to give Brahms any more power over her. 

When she tried to protest further, he was speaking over her, words so harsh in response to the gentle way his lips moved over the skin of her cheek. "There may come a time when I am not around to feed you." He sounded angry then, as though grudgingly acknowledging she would have to feed on someone else. "When the hunger will be strong, the choice between your life and that of a mortals." Her trembling was increasing, Silmeria fighting not to close her eyes. 

"You need to know how to gentle your bite. Too much force will guarantee an instant kill, giving you the blood you so seek, but at the cost of an innocent's life. The bite is not the only thing you need to control....the feeding itself...you have to learn to watch for the signs, to hear the heart beat as it starts to weaken and slow...there are other signs, but the heart beat is the easiest to recognize. If you keep on feeding after that point, you are in danger of draining a mortal to their death."

It wasn't just death she had to worry about. As a fledgling, she could inadvertently created a revenant, a mindless, blood seeking creature that would never know an end to it's lust for blood or the killings it would do to obtain it. It would be many years before Silmeria could even hope to be able to create a fledgling of her own, though right now creating more vampires was the furthest thing on her mind.

"Silmeria!" A harsh growl of her name, drawing her back to the conversation. Just barely though, Silmeria making a sound to show she was listening. But it was so hard to concentrate with his lips moving against the softness of her cheek. It was practically a kiss, Brahms taking liberties with this intimate way of speaking. "You'll have to feed regularly....at least once a night....that will help keep you in control, keep you from giving in to anger and violence so easily."

But it wouldn't help with the arousal. Silmeria knew this without Brahms having to say anything. "I...I understand..." But she didn't entirely accept this, Silmeria wondering how she could endure night after night of such intense feelings and stimulation.

"Good." He suddenly eased back, Silmeria missing the warmth of his mouth on her skin. "Now do it..." His head was bowing back, throat offered up to Silmeria. Impossibly, her eyes went huge, her fangs growing to their full length. Brahms' hands were holding onto her, preventing her from retreating. He was eager to be her meal, but his hands didn't force her mouth to his neck.

Silmeria hesitated, time seeming frozen, her awareness narrowed down to Brahms and herself. It wasn't a limited awareness, Silmeria conscious of every feeling and sensation, every panicked thought and rebellion against their desires. Brahms smelled good, his voice an all too pleasing sound whenever he spoke to her. He was an impressive male, a magnificent being whether he was a God or vampire, and Silmeria was inundated with memories of him. Perversely, she focused on the memories of the time she had seen his naked body reflected in the waters of Hvergelmir. Even then he had been a sight to inspire awe, even dirty and ruined by the sun.

Worse yet, she remembered the rough and violent sex he had had with Hel. The frantic claiming, the desperate need to posses Hel in every way. It didn't dampen her arousal, Silmeria horrified that she wondered just what the sex would be like if Brahms were to take her in that manner.

"Silmeria..." A low growl, expression strained, Brahms claws digging into her. It was as though he knew what she had wondered about. Knew and reacted to it. "Don't wait any longer..."

But he really meant don't make him wait any longer. But she wasn't prepared to give him her everything, especially not in that manner. Her lips drew back, Silmeria poised to strike. Brahms rasped out for her to control herself, but Silmeria was beyond such an attempt. In that moment, she wanted to cause pain, to hurt him for making her such a confusing mess.

Brahms would actually gasp, his hand clasping the back of her head. But he didn't try to pull her off him, Brahms just holding her as Silmeria began to feed. She was like a ravenous beast, drawing powerfully on his vein. Blood filled her mouth and was swallowed down seconds later, Silmeria drinking and drinking. Savoring the taste of his flavorful blood, Silmeria's hands free and clutching at him in return. She was careful not to dig her claws in, not wanting to waste even a drop of his blood with an accidental scratching.

Brahms let out the softest of moans, then attempted to get a hold of himself. She heard him speaking, telling her to focus, to concentrate on his heart beat. She didn't want to, biting harder in response. That earned her a growl, and a sharp tug on her hair. Silmeria could recognize she bit him hard enough that a mortal would have already been dead from her feeding, and so, grudgingly, she gentled her bite. 

The feeding was not a few seconds affair, instead lasting several minutes. Brahms' body was rich with blood, the vampire having fed some time earlier this night. She felt an uneasy thought that he had probably fed off a Valkyrie, but even that wasn't enough to get her to give up her treat. Or the sudden demand in his voice, Brahms ordering her to stop. When his hands began tugging at her hair, Silmeria protested, doing a wanton wiggle against his front. It was a dirty tactic, distracting Brahms from what he was doing. She drank in several more mouthfuls before he mastered his response to her wiggling, pulling on her hair to the point it was painful.

Silmeria reluctantly released him, the Valkyrie having noticed the taste of his blood had changed somehow. As though responding to the weakening of his heart, his pulse slowing to dangerous levels. He would need to feed and soon, Silmeria feeling ashamed of her little tantrum that had ruined all chance to practice the lessons he had wanted her to learn.

"I...I am sorry." Silmeria whispered, lowering her gaze. Brahms was breathing heavily, still so aroused but now also hungry. "Is...is there anything I can do...?" 

Brahms didn't hesitate, taking hold of her hand. "Your finger...give it to me." 

That was not what she was expecting, Silmeria raising her startled gaze in time to meet his as Brahms began to suck on her fingertip. A pin prick of pain followed, Silmeria holding back a wince. Brahms began to lap up the blood that welled from it, his tongue moving in an almost obscene way. Silmeria was full of his blood, her blush blooming with it, her knees weakening. Even that small bite on her finger, felt good now that he was actively sucking on it. But she didn't believe for one damn second her finger alone could appease his thirst for blood.

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, Silmeria trying to gather her courage. She couldn't believe what she was about to offer, and she fought not to sound hesitant as she spoke. "Would you...like to feed from me?" She cursed silently at how breathless an entreaty it had sounded like, Brahms' eyes flaring with surprised emotion.

"There is little more I would like to do..." He said, letting her finger slip free of his mouth. "But...I know you don't offer it to me out of any reason except a sense of obligation to right a wrong you've done me." His hand cupped her cheek, skin feeling colder than it had been. "The next time you offer to feed me....it will be out of true desire."

She was shaken, not only by the confidence in his eyes, but the truth of that statement. She wanted too badly, and Silmeria was too intrigued by him to not want to experience first hand the full pleasure of his bite. That first time he had bit her, she had resisted, feeling more pain than enjoyment from what he had been doing. It had hurt less when she stopped fighting him, but she had also weakened, dying slowly in his arms.

She been so incoherent at that point, Silmeria hadn't known what she had been doing, not realizing it was blood she had been given to drink. It was the only reason she was alive now, alive to feel all the strange and frightening things Brahms stirred in her.

Still blushing heavily, Silmeria stepped away from him. Her arms crossed over her chest, hands trying to rub warmth into them as she shivered. She could no longer look at Brahms, the ease of in which they had conversed, shattered by the feeding and their desires. 

Brahms didn't immediately try to stand, his eyes on her as Silmeria began to pace about the room. The tension was back, any progress they had made ruined by what had happened. It wasn't his fault, not entirely, Silmeria placing most of the blame on her fright and discomfort. She wondered if being a vampire would have been easier to handle if she had been an experienced woman, knowledgeable in the ways of sex and arousal. But she didn't dare ask such a question to Brahms, hurting just at the thought of seeing his amused smile in response to her inquiry.

A sound from behind her, Silmeria whipping around to see Brahms had stood. Her eyes traveled down, watching fascinated as his long fingers adjusted his clothing. He appeared to be in control. and he wasn't even staggered by the amount of blood she had taken. He was a really good actor to hide how she had weakened him, Brahms walking without stumbling towards her.

Silmeria would blink, bemused by the arm he offered to her. "Are we...going somewhere?" 

"I promised you an excursion did I not?"

"But..." Silmeria shook her head no. "I didn't expect you too. Not after..." She trailed off. 

"I keep my word." stated Brahms.

"Yes, I know. But surely...you are in no condition.....surely you must go and feed!" Silmeria exclaimed feebly.

"I can last a while yet." Brahms insisted. "And it will not be a long trip."

She was still so shaken over everything that had happened, or had almost happened, that Silmeria was no longer so eager to get out of this room. But the alternative was to be left alone, to sit and stew in her own warped feelings, reexamining everything that occurred, every damnable feeling she had had this evening. A trip out was infinitely more preferable to being left to go mad from her thoughts, and so that is why Silmeria took hold of Brahms arm.

"Where are we going?" She asked, trying to feign interest.

"Just wait and see." He drew her closer, but not so close as to be improper. Something began to happen, a shift in the energies around them. Silmeria tensed, but knew by experience what he was doing. She did after all remember how it had felt to be teleported to Brahms' camp by the vampire that had pulled her out of her carriage in the Forest of Spirits. It was just as disconcerting now as it had been back then, Silmeria actually dizzy and clinging to Brahms arm. He put out his other hand to steady her, Silmeria looking up gratefully. But the words of thanks never came, Silmeria having spied the people around them.

They were humans, she could tell by their scent and the lack of crimson coloring their eyes. The humans barely reacted to the sight of the two vampires, moving on about their business.

"Where are we?" Silmeria asked Brahms, wary interest in her eyes as she studied her surroundings. They were in the midst of an enclosed courtyard, freshly scrubbed cobblestone beneath their feet. Several stalls were set up across from each other, prospective buyers examining the shop's wares. Other humans stood in groups, talking, LAUGHING. There was even a couple sitting on an iron bench, openly displaying their affection for each other in a necking manner that reminded Silmeria too much of the way vampires bit their prey.

That reminder was a bit too much for her, Silmeria quickly turning away from the couple. But not before she noticed how the humans were all dressed, their clothing cut in a revealing manner. It was similar to the outfits the blood donors had worn at the vampire's ball, Silmeria gasping with realization. "These are the humans who have come to serve your people?!"

"Yes." Brahms smiled, a beaming expression as though she was an apt pupil who had exceeded his expectations. "This is where the humans stay when their services are not required, or they need to recover from feeding our people." He nodded at an open door, a dimly lit corridor stretching past it. "They all have their own rooms inside. We try to make them as comfortable as we can given our gratitude for what they offer us."

"And they are all here willingly?" Silmeria tried to keep an open mind, honestly she did. But doubt crept into her voice. Brahms didn't so much as bristle in response to it.

"You may ask them yourselves. They have not been compelled or coerced in any way." 

Silmeria nodded, letting go of his arm. His watchful gaze kept on her, Silmeria understanding he was merely being cautious. She wasn't a danger to these humans, not now that she had fed. She realized that was why he had insisted on feeding her, so as to allow Silmeria to safely walk amongst these humans.

"Excuse me..." Silmeria had walked up to a woman, the female looking roughly thirty years of age. She was one of the oldest looking humans here, leaving Silmeria to wonder if age played a factor in a vampire's feeding preferences.

The woman looked up from the book she had been studying, then quickly stood. She bobbed in an uncertain curtsey, face flushed as she spoke. "Yes, your ladyship? Do you have need of me?"

Silmeria was embarrassed, realizing the woman thought she had come to feed. "Oh no, not like that!" She exclaimed, her eyes flitting to the woman's neck. There was bite marks there, and on her arms too. This woman was well used in the feeding of Brahms' people, a fresh bite mark even on the swell of her right breast. "I just...well I wanted to ask you some things. If you don't mind." She hastily added, wanting the woman to have a choice in the matter.

"Of course, your ladyship. If I am able, I will gladly answer your questions." 

Silmeria gave her a nervous smile, gesturing for her to sit back down on the bench. The woman didn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest when Silmeria sat down next to her. It made her wonder if the vampires often sat with the humans here, feeding out in the public on these benches.

"Your ladyship? The woman inquired when Silmeria didn't immediately speak.

"What is your name?"

"Treeia." Was the answer.

"It's nice to meet you, Treeia. I am Silmeria." She put her hands together, fingers fidgeting in nervous play. "How did you come to be here...? I mean....are you here willingly?" 

"Oh yes, of course." Treeia quickly answered. She lifted a hand to her silky black hair, brushing it behind one ear. Silmeria wondered if Treeia realized what she was doing, flashing her neck and bite marks to a vampire. It was a provocative thing, but Silmeria's hunger didn't rise. "Lord Brahms and his people have been nothing but kind to me."

Silmeria felt the smallest, irrational bit of jealousy to hear Treeia speak Brahms name so familiarly. "Kind?"

"They've given me so much..." Treeia replied. "A roof over my head, food, money...."

"You don't mind the price they ask for in return for those things?"

"Well...at first I was hesitant....but it wasn't as though I had many options back in my old village." Her gaze lowered but not before Silmeria saw the hint of pain in her eyes. "My mother dead, no other relative to take me in...it was either starve or whore myself out....and neither option appealed. I was fortunate to come across Lord Trevain."

By the respectful tone of voice, Silmeria had the feeling this Trevain was a vampire. "Lord Trevain is...?"

"He is the one who recruited me." Treeia explained with a shy smile. "I was lucky Trevain had come to my village at that time....I don't want to think what would have happened to me otherwise..."

"It was that easy a decision for you?" Silmeria asked. 

"Oh no!" Treeia shook her head. "I was ever so frightened of him. He was a vampire after all. I thought for sure he would kill me, and I could hardly believe it when he didn't so much as bite me. Instead he talked to me, presenting a case as to why I should come with him to the vampire's island. I...I didn't accept right away....I didn't know what to think....I was so confused when I returned to my home that night. But I didn't once call upon the local boys to hunt down Lord Trevain."

Silmeria wondered if Trevain had used a minor compulsion on Treeia to keep her from alerting others to a vampire wandering their town. 

"It took me almost three days before I had the courage to seek Lord Trevain out." Treeia continued. "I was shaking, still not sure of what to do. I knew I had to experience something for myself before I could give a definitive answer. I..." She blushed bright red, lashes lowering shyly. "I let him bite me. Just to see if it would hurt!" She added hastily. Treeia didn't need to say anymore, Silmeria knowing for fact the recruiting vampire wouldn't have made it anything but a pleasurable experience.

"It wasn't long after that bite, that I made up my mind. Giving blood is infinitely more preferable to whoring myself." Treeia looked at Silmeria again. "Your ladyship. I have a better life here. I have been paid for my donations, and soon enough I will have more money than I will ever be able to spend in this lifetime. I will leave this place, and be able to make my way in the world, choose any kingdom in Midgard to make my home. I cannot regret what I have done, or the friends I have made among the humans here."

"I see...." Silmeria murmured. "It's been a long time since I have walked upon Midgard....but even I know a bit about how hard it is for a woman on her own...." Especially one not born of the humans' nobility, with little money and no title to their name. Wealth indeed brought privileges with it, affording women luxuries to be self reliant the way the lower classes could not. Those without the money, could scarcely afford to live, let alone educate themselves, or learn a trade or skill. It wasn't fair, but it was the way of the realm, the rich idle, while the poor struggled to make ends meet.

Silmeria was glad she had never had to worry about finances. Her father had made a more then adequate wage as a knight employed by Crell Monferaigne. Her family had lived in comfort, blessed and receiving daily giftings from those seeking miracles from the three young Goddesses. When it came to food, there had been little Silmeria and her family lacked, the people of Crell Monferaigne almost fanatical in leaving such offerings in front of their door. And even it something terrible were to happen, Silmeria losing both her sisters and their parents, the city itself would have spared no expense to care for Silmeria until she was old enough to be accepted into the heavens.

Hunger, and the desperation it could cause, had never been a problem for Silmeria. At least not until she had become a vampire, the need for blood making her crazed. Just thinking, even briefly about the feelings and sensations caused by the hunger and sating of it, made Silmeria blush. She quickly brought a hand to her face, trying to hide her reaction.

"Lady Silmeria...is everything all right?" A concerned Treeia asked. "You look...unsettled."

That was a good word to describe how she felt about feeding, Silmeria taking several small breaths before she could compose herself enough to lower her hand. "I am...fine..." She didn't know Treeia well enough to be comfortable confiding how overwhelming she was finding life as a vampire to be. It wasn't that she thought Treeia wouldn't understand. The woman had experience with the vampires, with their bites. More specifically, Treeia had experienced the pleasure of it, and must have found a way to reconcile herself to the eroticism of feeding multiple vampires.

Silmeria could barely handle it with one vampire, and the thought of feeling that way with any others was enough to turn her stomach. It was one of the downsides to being a vampire, unexpected in comparison to the enemies her vampirism now brought her. Silmeria was now part of a race of people that was the most hated beings in all of Creation, despised and feared. Many would hunt her, and even more would try to kill her on sight. It would be quite an adjustment to make, going from a Valkyrie beloved by nearly all the races, to hated vampire. Treeia was an exception, as was the other humans inside this castle. Silmeria would take the time to meet with several others, learning their stories while Brahms watched from a distance.

Some of the stories were similar to Treeia's, women having to choose between prostitution and starving to death. There was even a young man, a youth now in his mid twenties, who had faced the same decision when his parents died when he had been only fifteen. He was fair of face, with a slender build, and had been so close to selling himself. A vampire, one of the select few who went around searching out suitable donors to approach, had been the one the boy had offered himself to, the fifteen year old never dreaming he would be offered a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Some of the blood donors, were people hoping to become vampires one day. They hadn't come to the island with that desire, but somewhere along the way, they had decided they didn't want to return to life among humans once their contracted time was up. There were even a few men here, who had been wrongfully accused of crimes, their fate to be hanged or enslaved for the perceived offenses. The chance to start over elsewhere with the riches the vampires offered, had looked the infinitely better choice to slavery or death.

The humans here weren't coerced or bespelled, their eyes bright with awareness. Nor were they foolish or suicidal, being people who wanted the chance to live. Some might enjoy being fed on a little more than Silmeria thought was healthy, but the humans here were happy. The only thing they might truly long for, was the chance to go out of the castle. But with the undead monsters roaming the island, that wouldn't have been wise.

Protected and well paid for, these were people who had been given a new chance at life. They all seemed in agreement that they were better for their association with the vampire race. They didn't even seem that bothered at the thought that by feeding the vampires, they were actively defying the Gods. They didn't know the truth about Odin or the war the vampires fought against him, but many were indebted to the beings who had saved them, rather than the Gods who had sat idly by.

Silmeria had flushed to hear it, ashamed because she knew it was true. Odin did not cater to the prayers of the humans, the entreaties for miracles. He demanded complete obedience, and reveled in the power he gained from their worship. But otherwise he did not care much about the very people he had created. Odin seemed to only see the humans as instruments, taking those he deemed worthy to be his puppet army, while the rest were tossed to Hel and her cruel torments.

It was an unpleasant truth she had often turned a blind eye to, telling herself instead Odin had been busy defending the realms from the vampires. But that wasn't true, Odin himself doing little of the actual fighting. The Valkyrie and the einherjar, had waged Odin's war for him, carrying out his vendetta against the vampires mercilessly. Silmeria fumed to realize that both the Valkyries and the vampires, and also the many different souls that became einherjar, were nothing more than pawns on a chess board to Odin. What's worse, he played the game well, having come perilously close to a final victory over Brahms.

It really wasn't fair, Silmeria thought, turning to seek out Brahms. He hadn't once tried to feed, instead waiting patiently for Silmeria to finish her interviews. She recalled now, that the humans were all on recuperative leave, a leave granted to them the night Silmeria had gone ballistic in the ballroom. The vampires had needed to feed, both to calm down and heal the injuries Silmeria had caused. So many vampires had been in need of blood, these humans hadn't been able to take care of them all. Silmeria remembered how dismayed she had been at the thought of the vampires leaving the island to seek out more prey. She knew that is what Brahms would have to do, and that she shouldn't keep him any longer from that.

Eyes holding his gaze, Silmeria walked towards him. She was glad he had brought her to meet the blood donors, and that the humans had allowed her to hear their stories. The stories had reassured her, and taught her more about the culture of the vampires. There was still much to learn, Silmeria wondering how the vampires decided who to make a donor out of, and who to turn into a vampire. But curiosities like that would have to wait until after Brahms had sated his own hunger.

"I'm ready." Silmeria said as she reached him. Brahms didn't have to ask if she had found out what she had needed, his sharp hearing surely allowing him to eavesdrop on the conversations. Her gaze was concerned as she looked up at him, but he was the picture of strength, sun darkened skin unable to hold the paleness that all other vampires had.

Brahms opened his mouth to reply, only to let out a growl instead. Silmeria felt the energy a second later, Brahms drawing her behind him as though to shield her from the new arrival. It was a man, a vampire with hair so blonde, it was more silver than yellow. He had markings on his face, black ink tattooing an intricate pattern that covered not only his left cheek, but spiked up over his eye. It added to the sinister look of him, the vampire's ears pierced with golden hoops.

Silmeria peered at him as best she could manage, given Brahms was in her way. The vampire looked at her, and outright sneered, ignoring the growl Brahms let out. "So this is her. This is the Valkyrie you have lost your head over."

"Valkyrie no more." Brahms pointed out, his voice as angry as the other vampire's expression was. "Silmeria is one of us now, and you will treat her with all the respect due my bride." 

Another sneer. "I will afford her all the respect due a witch who has bespelled my King to take leave off all his good sense!" Instantly, Brahms had the vampire by the throat, claws digging into that tender flesh. The vampire didn't gasp in fear, actually snarling instead. "Yes! Kill me! Kill me and prove how clouded your judgment has become!"

Brahms growled in response, but didn't tear out the vampire's throat. "What do you want, Perseus?" 

"My bride is dead. She died defending our home and that...." A pause at the threatening sound Brahms let out, Perseus changing whatever he had been about to call Silmeria. "Witch of yours."

"I am sorry for your loss." Brahms' anger had not lessened. "But Silmeria is not to blame."

"If not her then who?" Perseus demanded. "She is the reason the Valkyrie hunted on our island. She is the reason so many died!"

"I am the one who brought her here. It was my theft that angered the Valkyrie." Brahms pointed out. "It was an insult they could not tolerate."

"My bride is dead because of your lust! I demand equal recompense."

"A life for a life?" Silmeria asked, and both men glowered at her. "Sorry. But I am not dying, and I will not stand back and be talked about as though I have nothing to add to this discussion." Neither male calmed, Silmeria sighing. "Now...what must we do to make this right by you and the bride you lost?"

"There is nothing!" Perseus snapped. "You cannot, anymore than you could placate the others who have suffered similar losses. Brahms, there will be a reckoning for your actions."

"Careful whelp. You go farther than your bride's death would allow." Brahms told him.

"I go not far enough!" The other man retorted. His claws were out, though he had yet to use them. 

"You are in shock." Silmeria said, but her voice only served to further agitate the grief stricken vampire. "You need time to grieve..."

"She doesn't understand, does she?" Perseus demanded. "She doesn't realize the magnitude of the loss I've suffered!"

"She is still new to our ways." Brahms answered, his tone gruff. "Still learning the ins and outs of our culture and what it means to be a vampire."

"It doesn't excuse her." 

"I'll tell you again, Perseus, Silmeria is not the one at fault here!" Brahms actually shook the other vampire, the man's hands scrambling to claw at the King's arms. The scratches bled Brahms, Silmeria stepping forward in concern.

"That's enough!" She snapped. Brahms really couldn't afford to lose anymore blood tonight. Brahms shifted to block her with the hand that wasn't gripping Perseus' throat, clearly not wanting her any closer to the angry vampire. "I am sorry for your loss. Truly I am....but hurting me, hurting Brahms will not bring her back."

"I do not want your apologies!" Perseus hissed. "Or your sympathy!" He locked eyes with Brahms, expression vicious as his fangs flashed. "May the day come soon when you lose your bride. Then and only then, will you understand the suffering you unleashed on your people with your lust!" 

Perseus barely got out those words, Brahms snarling like a feral beast. Silmeria gasped, and was barely in time to keep Brahms from crushing the other man's throat. Any other fledgling wouldn't have had the strength to stop the King of the vampires from killing, but Silmeria was no ordinary fledgling. She still didn't understand why she had been gifted with the strength and speed of a vampire that was nearly the match of Brahms, but she was grateful for that power. 

"Killing him won't help!" Silmeria said, drawing Brahms away from the crumpled form of Perseus on the floor. "If anything you will only prove him right about you....about the effect he claims I have on you...."

"I will not tolerate threats against you, even veiled ones!" Brahms snapped in retort. He was shaking, barely holding in his fury. Silmeria continued to hold onto him, trying to both soothe him and prevent him from returning to Perseus' side. 

"I am much harder to kill than perhaps you or Perseus realize." Silmeria said. "Especially now."

"You are not a mere fledgling." Brahms agreed, relaxing but only slightly. "But do not allow your abilities to make you cocky and careless."

"I won't." She glanced back at Perseus who had pushed up onto his knees. "You were right that I shouldn't have been seen. Not on this night, not when the loss of lives is still so fresh on everyone's minds." She returned to looking at Brahms, inclining her head in a nod. "I am ready to return to my room." 

Brahms nodded back, and the energies gathered around them. She heard Perseus snarl, his words sending a chill through her as he shouted about how even time would not heal the wounds of this night, of how the vampires would never forget the sins of their King. Silmeria shivered, unsettled because of the ring of truth held in Perseus' words. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	43. Forty Three

Flenceburg was an impressive city, as wealthy as it was large. Lenneth did not know it's exact specifications, the city blocks stretching for miles in every direction that she could see. Those blocks were crowded with buildings, each one an impressive stone and marble dwelling that stood with not so much an inch of space between the homes. Those homes were more space than was needed for a single family, three, sometimes four apartments placed on top of one another. Of course, some families were rich enough to afford to have entire buildings to themselves, but only those that were overly extravagant wasted their money in that way.

It was a well populated city, being the crown jewel in the kingdoms Hel had control over on Midgard. The premier school of magic had it's home here, and many eager apprentices fought for the chance to study in the academy's hallowed halls. Of course there were other less prestigious schools. But the best and brightest studied in Flenceburg, spending a small fortune in the hopes they would become good enough to gain the Goddess of the Underworld's notice.

Lenneth knew Lezard himself would have most likely received his education at the magic academy, exceeding the expectations placed on him once his abilities had started to show. A natural talent for spell casting, Lezard had to be a genius when it came to magic. His status in Flenceburg was proof of that, the man ruling over the city in Hel's place. It was a precarious position, needing only someone just a little better, stronger, smarter, to throw him down from his perch.

Lenneth didn't like that she worried for him, for his safety and continued well being. Not when she was still too raw from what had been said this morning. Or rather what had not been said, Lezard refusing to give her the words she had grown to want to hear. She didn't expect him to love her just yet, but that he couldn't, wouldn't consider the possibility that one day his feelings could develop beyond the desire he so obviously had? It hurt her, Lenneth feeling as though he had effectively cut her to the quick with a sword. It left her wondering what was so undesirable about her, that Lezard refused to even try to love her.

Especially when Lenneth was one step closer to being hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Lezard! The enchantment had played havoc with her feelings, with her very nature, awakening in Lenneth this unwanted need to be loved by him. She had been struggling for days against the enchantment's poison, fighting to keep from losing herself completely. In one unguarded moment, she had almost lost the battle, love starting to take hold of her heart. It was Lezard's fault that love had started to blossom, that she had come to care so much more for him in just one night. In refusing to force her to sleep with him, Lezard had ensnared her heart just a little, and only her crushing disappointments kept it from developing any further.

Lenneth couldn't allow that love to become any stronger. She refused to love wholeheartedly, without an equal return of that emotion from her partner. Lezard was invested in their marriage, liking her enough to desire her. But desire as she was learning, could be and was separate from love. Lezard could enjoy her, could even like her and have sex with her, allowed the luxury of his heart remaining his own. 

It hadn't just been last night that had allowed Odin's enchantment to bespell her. Lenneth was coming to realize that for all her struggles, all her attempts to keep from submitting to the love spell, it had been affecting her. Almost from the start, Lenneth practically obsessed with thoughts of love, with the want of it, the need to have secured it in return for her own heart felt feelings. She had been in pain, speaking far more freely about love and feelings to Lezard, almost begging him to give her the chance to be loved by him. That was mortifying, and even more so given that he denied her time and time again.

Heart sick, Lenneth wished she could hate Lezard. But it was impossible, Odin's enchantment softening her to the man who had kissed her awake. It wasn't just the spell, Lezard kept on proving himself different from what she had expected of a devoted follower of the Goddess Hel. Nice and attentive, kind rather than cruel, he encouraged and supported her. And except for a moment here and there, he did not push his more amorous intentions on her. Lezard actually wanted to wait for her to come to accept the sexual aspect of their relationship. That had been most surprising, and had been the final push to get infatuation going on Lenneth's part.

She wouldn't let that infatuation stop her from her self appointed mission, Lenneth more determined than ever to return to the heavens. Maybe then, once restored to her divinity, she would be able to shake these feelings, maybe even forget about Lezard and her time with him. Her traitorous heart panged in protest, Lenneth refusing to dwell on what it would mean if she couldn't get over the infatuation.

It didn't help matters that now that Lenneth was married to Lezard, they were expected to spend even more time together. She was conscious of what effects their continued association would have on her, and yet there was no easy way for her to deny those expectations. Or him, Lezard wanting and enjoying spending time with her. It was what led him to seek her out again and again, and had been the motivating force behind this morning's suggestion that they venture into the heart of the city. A pity for her, she wasn't yet enjoying this, not even the ride on Obsidian lifting her spirits. 

The horse himself was just as unhappy, shifting restlessly beneath her. The slow trot she had him maintaining did not suit Obsidian's nature at all, the stallion as free a sprit as Lenneth had once been. Obsidian had it easy, no love or the need for it weighing him down. She sighed then, the sound as deeply depressed as her thoughts were.

"Lenneth?" Lezard and his mount had pulled up besides her, her husband wearing a concerned expression. "Is everything all right?"

NOTHING was right, and it would continue to remain that way until one of two things happened. Lezard either came to truly love Lenneth, or she returned to the heavens, freeing herself of the enchantment. But she wouldn't voice those thoughts out loud. Not after she had exposed one too many vulnerabilities in openly asking for his love, for the chance of it.

"I just don't like going this slow." Lenneth said, and it wasn't all a lie. She missed the thrill of racing through the streets, the exhilaration she and Obsidian had both shared. "And neither does Obsidian." Lenneth said, reaching forward to pat the snorting horse's neck.

"It's too dangerous to go any faster!" Lezard reminded her, alarmed. Lenneth couldn't even muster up any amusement at his worry, or over the way he fretted over her safe keeping. It wasn't love behind his worries, Lezard motivated by obligation and kindness. For good or for bad, she belonged to him. She was his wife so long as she remained a mortal on Midgard. He would not want to see anything bad happen to her, never realizing how his kind regard was killing her inside.

"The streets are crowded at this time of day." Lezard continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Accidents can and have happened. You could be hurt, or hurt someone else with one careless misstep."

She bristled in response. "I am an expert rider." Lenneth told him. "I have not only ridden steeds as wild if not wilder than Obsidian, I have fought from their back. I haven't been thrown from a horse in years, and I'm not about to start now!" 

She saw the startled look in his eyes, Lezard blinking rapidly. But Lenneth didn't wait for a response, clicking her heels against Obsidian's body. The ebony colored stallion let out a delighted sound, going from trot to full out gallop, leaving Lezard and his horse behind. Lenneth heard Lezard call after her, but she didn't slow. She didn't so much as look back at him, trying to hold onto her anger. Trying to build out of it a stronger defense against Lezard and the feelings that were developing within her towards him.

Love wasn't that easy to deter. The anger, which was more annoyed tantrum than any true rage, could only shield her heart briefly. And Obsidian could take her only so far, Lenneth perhaps able to outdistance Lezard but not the feelings that tortured her from the inside. 

It was all so unsettling, not to mention exhausting. These feelings were a drain on Lenneth's energies, sapping her strength and any enjoyment she might have taken from the ride. Obsidian however, had no such problem, the horse speeding through the busy streets. Crowded not only with people, but carriages and other horses, Lenneth and Obsidian were an unexpected and unwanted danger, the working class of Flenceburg hurrying out of their way. 

They didn't come close to actually hitting anyone. Lenneth had better control than that, guiding Obsidian past all obstacles. If Lezard had been near, he surely would have went white faced with terror, Lenneth seeming careless for all outward appearances. He'd most likely never notice the ease in which she avoided all, including the panicked child who darted out into Obsidian's path at the last possible second. 

The people were unharmed, but the things around them weren't always so lucky. A crate full of vegetables smashed against the ground. A chicken was startled, trying to take desperate flight as the shop clerk made a frantic lunge for it. People dropped their belongings as they lurched off the road, and several horses reared up in excitement at Obsidian's pass. 

She saw startled faces in the open windows of the carriages she passed, Lenneth directing Obsidian to take a hard right. She had no idea where she was going, the only thought in her mind to stay as far away from Lezard as she could. That left returning to the castle as a no, Lenneth blindly racing down streets. Obsidian was enjoying himself, the stallion getting more exercise in the two rides Lenneth had taken with him than he had in the last five years. Lezard and his much more sedate mare, hadn't a hope of keeping up, the two thoroughly left in the dust.

It wasn't just Lezard she left behind, the busy neighborhood streets changing. She went from the shops and stalls of the crowded bazaar, to the more peaceful residential areas of the rich. The neighborhood's quiet was shattered, Obsidian's hooves slamming hard against the cobblestones. A man waiting on a squatting dog, turned to watch Lenneth ride by. But she didn't slow, letting Obsidian work himself to a lather as they followed the path of the streets, passing the occasional gaping mouth bystanders.

It felt like they could have run forever, but even a horse as magnificent as Obsidian was, was still mortal. He began to go slower, sides heaving from exertion. It was a sight that made Lenneth feel awful, the former Goddess realizing she should have been more responsible towards Obsidian's care. She wanted to immediately stop, but they were nowhere near a water trough.

Obsidian marched determinedly forward, guided by some instinct. Was he heading back to the castle stables? But Lenneth didn't recognize this part of the city, nothing resembling the buildings and landmarks that were situated closest to the castle. She was completely turned around, actually lost in this maze of a city. Obsidian continued to trot, moving like he had a purpose. That purpose became clear, when she felt the wind carry the scent of sea breeze to her. They were nearing water, and a few blocks more would bring them up to the water front, to the plank covered docks that were home to Flenceburg's ship yards.

It was busy here, like it had been back at the bazaar. The working class of Flenceburg had not been allowed the day off to celebrate their Lord's marriage like the nobles had, the men that were employed as sailors and dock workers needing the wages this and other days would bring them. Those wages didn't stop them from staring, the men standing still as she and Obsidian passed by.

The presence of so much water had Obsidian frustrated, Lenneth not about to allow the stallion to drink down all that salty sea. But there WERE water troughs here, along with fence posts to tie a horse too. Lenneth guided Obsidian towards one, the horse lowering his head, eager for the drink that which would refresh him. Lenneth would stay mounted on his back while he did this, just looking around curiously at the ship yard. There was several ships docked, merchant vessels by the looks of them, and loaded down with goods by the way they sat heavy in the water.

There was a tavern located furthest from the water, the only place where women could be seen on the docks. One such woman stepped out of the tavern, a man talking animatedly by her side. The woman halted in her tracks at the sight of Lenneth, the man continuing to talk and none too subtly gesture at the former Goddess. Whatever he said seemed to jolt the woman into action, the pair hurrying towards Lenneth, bowing and curtsying several times.

"Lady Goddess..." The man said, still half bent in his bow. He wouldn't meet her inquisitive gaze, practically mumbling as he spoke to her. "Have you come to give a blessing to the ships?"

"Here...never mind that!" The woman had straightened from her fourth curtsey. "Your ladyship must be requiring something to eat and drink, yes? Oh don't you worry, it's all on the house. Can't be taking money from a Goddess."

Lenneth wasn't surprised they knew of her, even if they were mistaken about her divinity. The entire city of Flenceburg had just celebrated her wedding to their Lord, their hard work rewarded by the coin used to purchase the things needed to make the ceremony and reception a great success. Even without a wedding, there would have surely been talk, Lenneth a beautiful woman with unique coloring all her own. The fact that she had been a Goddess? It only added to these people's interest in her, Lenneth the first Valkyrie to ever be given to make a life among the people who followed Hel's teachings.

She looked down at the pair, noting they looked entirely normal, downright innocent for ones who most likely worshipped the dark Goddess. Few if any that followed Odin, would have dared to make a home and a life in one of Hel's kingdoms. They would have feared corruption, the contamination of not only their souls, but their very beliefs and thoughts. It didn't stop them from visiting Hel's lands on occasion, the mortals of Midgard having an unspoken truce when it came to the trade and commerce between cities. Gold was gold after all, no matter whose hand had held it.

Looking at the woman, whose face showed an eagerness to serve, Lenneth did not think her inherently evil. She was probably a good woman, whose only fault lay in that she had been born to parents who had lived and followed Hel's ways. The same could be said of the man, who still wouldn't look directly at Lenneth.

"Your ladyship?" An uncertain note in the woman's voice, Lenneth realizing she had taken too long in answering.

"Thank you for your generosity." She said, and the woman beamed.

"Wouldn't think nothing of it! I can't be standing to let anyone, let alone a Goddess, starve!" Lenneth was hardly in danger of that! But before she could make known she wasn't here to be catered to, the woman was brow beating her male companion. "Ack, don't just be standing there! Get a bucket of oats for the Lady Goddess' horse!"

"Please....there's no need." Lenneth said, even as Obsidian lifted his head and snorted in inquiry. He knew enough to recognize the word oats, and at that interest of his, Lenneth thought to herself perhaps she should stay long enough for the stallion to eat some.

"It's no bother at all." The woman was saying, then all but glared at the man. "Get a move on, already!"

He never got to leave instead reacting to the sound of hooves hurrying towards them. Lenneth stiffened in place on Obsidian's back, instinct and a bad feeling gripping hold of her. Even without turning, she knew, just knew, that it would be Lezard who approached. She didn't know how he had found her, and so fast, but Lenneth was not yet prepared to face him, all her hurt and resentments rearing once more.

"Lord Valeth!" The woman exclaimed, dropping into a hasty curtsey. The very docks seemed to grow noisy, the workers all curious as to why their Lord had come to this place. 

Lenneth jerked on Obsidian's reigns, feeling guilt that she would ask a demand of the horse so soon. But the need to run was strong in her, Lenneth guiding a reluctant Obsidian away from the water, the horse snorting in disapproval. But he didn't fight her, tensing to at least try to run.

"Lenneth!" Lezard was closer than she had realized, his own horse panting heavily. The poor mare was clearly not used to such treatment, Lezard having apparently ridden it just as hard as Lenneth had ridden Obsidian. The horses might collapse from exhaustion if pushed any farther, and yet Lenneth couldn't just stop, attempting to race past Lezard and his steed.

To her surprise, he took a jump over some crates, the mare being guided to come to a halt directly in Lenneth's path. Obsidian was the one to rear up in surprise, Lezard's shout hardly a calming effect on the stallion. Lenneth found herself holding onto the reins with one hand, while using the other to pet reassurance into Obsidian in an attempt to calm him down.

"Easy there..." She was murmuring, Obsidian's hooves pawing at the air. When his legs finally came back down, Lezard reached forward, snatching at the reins in Lenneth's hand. She was too surprised by the action, barely able to protest, and realizing she was effectively caught. Even if she were to slide off Obsidian's back, it would be pointless, not to mention silly to run, to take her attempts to avoid her husband to such extremes.

"Lenneth."

"Lezard..." She said back, her tone steeled to betray nothing of what she felt. Lenneth couldn't say the same for her husband, his eyes angry, his very bearing tense with that emotion. But for all his upset, there was also concern, Lezard looking her over as though to make certain she had not been hurt during her ride. "I did not expect you to find me this quickly."

"Obviously." A terse answer. He was not amused, and that was even more apparent when he answered just how he found her. "I followed the path of destruction you and Obsidian left in your wake."

Mortified heat filled her, Lenneth actually lowering her gaze. But what was she really upset about? Her unlady like tantrum that had held the potential to endanger so many, or the fact that Lezard had caught up to her and so quickly too?

"No one was hurt." Lezard continued. "I can't say the same for their belongings though."

"I'm sorry." Lenneth all but whispered it. "I was reckless."

"Yes, you were." His agreement didn't make her feel any better, nor did the admonishments that followed. "Just what were you thinking?! You endangered not only yourself, but the people around you. Why? What possible reason could you have had?" 

"I..." Lenneth gave a shrug of her shoulders. "I have none." None that she could truly explain, least of all to him. 

"You have not been the same since the moment I gave you your necklace." That necklace hung heavy between her breasts, Lenneth resisting the urge to touch it's sapphire pendant. "What happened Lenneth?" Another shrug from her, which only served to exasperate him. "After last night....I thought..."

"What?" She asked softly. "What did you think?"

Now he hesitated. "Things were different. WE were different. You were no longer tense around me." The last was said almost accusingly. "I thought we were becoming friends."

Friends. The word was practically a slap in the face given what Lenneth felt for him. She didn't want to settle for just friendship, her heart longing for more. "You thought wrong." She said it harshly, but wasn't at all satisfied by the hurt look that shadowed his expression.

"Lenneth!"

To her mortification, her eyes burned. Just what was wrong with her? Why did she feel so strongly, why was she allowing herself be torn apart by both her feelings and his? "I'm...forgive me." Lenneth whispered. "I do not know what is wrong with me. Not exactly...This is not like me, not like me at all. These feelings.....they are a burden...."

"Feelings..." echoed Lezard, just as the woman from the tavern reached them. Her eyes were burning with a gleeful curiosity, and she wasn't the only one. The workers were all standing around, avid interest on their face as they blatantly stared at Lezard and Lenneth, Her face grew hotter yet, Lenneth wondering how much they had heard, and just how much they had understood of what had been said.

"Lord Valeth, Lady Goddess. Please...your horses are in need of a rest. Come, wait in the tavern while they recover."

Lezard and Lenneth exchanged a look, both knowing it was the truth that the woman spoke of. "All right." Lezard said, but didn't let go of Obsidian's reins. It was as though he didn't trust Lenneth not to bolt the second he let go, and it hurt her that she had driven him to that point of mistrust.

With Lezard in the lead, the horses were brought over to the water trough. The tavern woman immediately began barking orders, men hurrying to tie the horses to the post, and to fetch the oats she had offered Obsidian earlier.

Lezard and Lenneth slipped off their mounts' back at roughly the same time. Lenneth lingered by Obsidian long enough to give him one last pat, and then allowed Lezard to grip her hand. The woman led them to the tavern, chattering a mile a minute. 

"You came at a good time." She was saying. "The lunch rush has just ended." The tavern was indeed empty save for two men not dressed in the dock worker's uniform. The woman nodded at them, smiling. "Jospeh and Yolaf. Two of my best customers."

"That's because you make the best lamb in all of Flenceburg." One of the men said. 

The other raised his mug, toasting the tavern woman. "Not to mention you serve the cheapest ale!"

The tavern woman gave the second man an annoyed look, clearly not liking that cheap comment. "Cheap only in price, not in quality, I guarantee you, your Lordship!" She said to Lezard, guiding him and Lenneth to a table. It was no coincidence she sat them near the kitchen, this woman blatantly obvious that she felt entitled to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I'll have some of that lamb heated up and ready to serve in just a few minutes." She was promising, curtseying once more.

"Thank you uh..."

"Richelle." She said, all too glad to supply her name.

"Yes, Richelle...thank you." Lezard said, and the silence that followed was pointed. He was making it known the conversation would not start until Richelle stepped away from the table. She wasn't as disappointed as she could be, Richelle hurrying to the kitchen. No doubt one ear would be turned to the door, Richelle intent on hearing as much of Lezard and Lenneth's conversation as she could.

They wouldn't make it easy for her, speaking in low voiced murmurs. "You said feelings..." Lezard began, and Lenneth slowly, hesitantly nodded. "Is it the enchantment?"

"I..." A shake of her head, Lenneth despairing. "I do not....it can't be all the enchantment's fault! I am feeling things, feelings that have nothing to do with the love it tries to force on me. The ride today, my anger at you...."

"At me?" This anger was clearly a surprise to him by the startled look on his face.

"I was angry by your concern, by how you seemed to disregard my skill at handling Obsidian." That wasn't all she had been angry about, but it was all Lenneth could admit to at this point. "It made me lash out." She lowered her gaze, ashamed once more. "I was like a child throwing a tantrum. And that is NOT like me! Not like me at all!"

The table has scarring on it's wood, someone having carved their initials into it's surface. She traced the initials with her fingers now, Lenneth troubled. "I've never been prone to anger...at least...not anger of such an irrational kind. These feelings....all of them...they are all so new to me. New and mostly unwanted! They are making me act and say things...behave in a way most unbecoming." They made her want things she couldn't have, Lenneth's heart seeming to clench in pain.

"It is exhausting." She continued, confiding in her husband. "I don't know how you mortals have not gone mad from the depths of the feelings you go through on a daily basis." 

"I'm sorry." Lezard hand was covering hers, Lenneth's fingers stilling on the carving. "I had no idea...."

"You had to have some." Lenneth insisted, meeting his gaze. "It's not natural for a Valkyrie, even a disgraced one, to go on and on about love and the need for it."

"Valkyrie or no, you are still a woman at heart."

That proved he still didn't understand, Lenneth pulling her hand out from under his. "I am mortal now....human....I don't think either one of us truly appreciate what that means...Your kind feels so much more, with an intensity that is almost unrivaled against the other beings of Creation. Short lived though you may be, you cram so many experiences and emotions into your brief lives. I suppose it's meant to make your kind fulfilled, but I? It is unwanted, a burden to someone who has spent eternity cold and rational!"

"Feelings don't necessarily have to make one irrational." Argued Lezard. "Nor are they particularly bad..."

She practically scoffed in response, Lenneth giving a terse shake of her head no. "If I had behaved on the battlefield like I had today? Giving in to my anger, rushing headfirst into danger? I would have surely been killed or worse! I was reckless...a danger to myself as well as to others...I am embarrassed by my behavior...by the trouble I've caused you."

"Lenneth, you have yet to cause me any true trouble." Reassured Lezard. This time she did scoff, the sound full of her disbelief. He gave a small smile back, and continued attempting to reassure her. "You frightened me more than anything today...."

"I don't just speak about today." Lenneth said. "When I think about how I've gone on and on, about my feelings....about what I would have from you..."

"You are well in your rights to want that." Lezard quickly said.

"I'm sure it is a problem you haven't wanted." Lenneth insisted. "To deal with some overly needy female, with her wants and hurt feelings. I'm sure you expected better."

"I wasn't sure what to expect when getting a Valkyrie for my bride." Lezard told her. "But I find myself liking the feeling woman you are becoming. A lot more than I would have like some cold, dispassionate Goddess!"

He was reaching for her hand, but Lenneth wasn't ready to accept what he was telling her. "Without these feelings getting in the way...you wouldn't have had to go unfulfilled on your own wedding night." He had frozen at that, his expression looking very much shocked by what she had said. She felt her own shock, mortified heat making her feel too warm, her clothing even more tight and restricting than they had been previously. "It's the truth." She insisted, hiding her own embarrassment behind her defensiveness. "What you wanted to do...what you required of me...it wouldn't have mattered anywhere as much as it does, as I am making it to be!"

She watched him open and close his mouth several times, Lezard doing a hard swallow. He seemed speechless, as though she had shocked him to the point he knew not what to say to her. The silence was almost unbearable, but nowhere near as hurting as it would have been should he have tried to reassure her. To hear him gently insist that last night had happened the way he would have wanted, to hear him claim he was happy to have spent the night just talking to her, it very well might have drawn a scream from Lenneth. No man could be happy to lose out on his marriage bed rights, especially a man who desired his wife as much as Lezard clearly desired Lenneth.

"The act doesn't need to mean more than I am making it to mean!" She continued, stumbling, practically babbling her way to further embarrassments. "I should be able to distance my heart and my head, I shouldn't let any feelings impede me in my duty to you!"

He was still just staring at her, Lezard unable or unwilling to speak. Lenneth came away with the feeling she was truly a disgrace, burdening him even further with talking about this. "When I wed you...I made a promise. I spoke vows to you. I am not living up to them. But I cannot be...as cold about this as you, as unfeeling about this duty that is expected of me."

His unsettling stare was finally broken, Lezard blinking rapidly several times in quick succession. "You think me unfeeling?" He asked, giving her an unhappy look. She nodded, watching the way his eyes narrowed, the amethyst burning with emotion. "You are wrong Lenneth."

"Am I?" She challenged, and watched the way the flames flickered. He was angry, his hand forming a fist that he pounded on the table's top. She wasn't the only one to jump at that sound. Richelle, newly emerged from the kitchen, and carrying a tray laden down with lamb and some side dishes, nearly fell over in reaction. Lezard had hardly noticed, banging his fist once more on the table.

"You are!" He insisted, his voice louder than it had been since they had been seated at this table. "I..."

Aware of Richelle's fascinated gaze, Lenneth meaningfully jerked her head in that direction. Lezard didn't lose his anger, but he calmed down enough to acknowledge the tavern woman. Richelle seemed disappointed, the woman clearly having hoped to overhear more. 

"Here you go." Richelle said warmly, maintaining a pretense of having born witness to nothing that had been said between Lenneth and Lezard. "Some fresh lamb and some ale to wash it all down with." She hurriedly set down the plates, along with two tankards of the tavern's brew, before stepping back with an expectant look on her face.

"Thank you Richelle." Lezard said in a dismissive tone. He made not one move towards the food, his gaze back on Lenneth.

"Yes, thank you." 

"It's no problem at all." Richelle smiled. "You have anything else you need, just give a holler and I'll be right over." She sauntered off, but did not go that far, Richelle purposefully choosing to busy herself by wiping down the tables nearest to theirs. It was almost laughable how much the woman wanted to eavesdrop on them, but Lenneth couldn't so much as smile. Not with Lezard barely restraining his glare.

"I am not some indifferent monster." Lezard began, his voice as a low a whisper as he could make it. "I have real feelings, real desires. I want, and just as strongly as I want, I can be hurt too."

"I have hurt you." Lenneth noted, anguish filling her in response. "I never meant to....truly I didn't..."

"But you have Lenneth." Lezard told her. "You hurt me with your thinking, with the insistence that I could be so indifferent towards you and what is expected of us both. Lenneth..." He started to reach for her hand, then changed his mind. "If I did not care, do you honestly think we would be here now? That we would not be back at the castle, in bed enjoying one another's bodies?"

Again that unwanted heat was in her, Lenneth sure she was turning red in response to what he was saying. Lezard gave her an unhappy smile in response, his expression almost bitter then.

"If I did not care about you, or for you, it would have been easy to bed you. To ignore your feelings and apprehensions, and just take what I desired from you." Another unhappy look. "It is as you so eloquently pointed out, my right as your husband after all." She flinched at that, and this time Lezard did touch her hand. "But Lenneth? I do not want it to happen like that. I want so much more from you than just a marriage of convenience...I want a partner, an equal to share my life with." He was lacing their fingers together, Lezard lifting her hand so that he could brush kisses over the back of it. Lenneth shivered in response, her eyes locked on his.

"The desire I have for you is no cold thing. It's warm and alive, and capable of burning us both. I think you'll never properly understand how much it hurt to step away from you, but it hurt a thousand times worse to know you did not desire me back. If I was unfeeling, I could have ignore your feelings on the matter. But how could I look at you, how could I touch you with the knowledge that you did not want to do such a thing with me? It was not a night that lived up to my expectations, it was better."

"Better?" Lenneth managed to ask, her voice as low as his was. "How could that possibly be true?"

"I spent it with you. Yes.." He quickly said, to stave off her protests. "Neither one of us behaved in the expected manner. But it was special. You let down your guard around me, you relaxed enough to share stories with me. We enjoyed that time, or at least I did..."

"I admit it was not unpleasant, the hours we spent together." She was rewarded with another kiss grazing across her knuckles, the look in Lezard's eyes softening by degrees. She liked that look a whole lot more than his glares, though she was still puzzled by what he was telling her. Unable to trust completely that he had been satisfied with how they had spent the first night of their marriage, perhaps there was nothing he could truly say to reassure her otherwise.

"I've never spent a night like that with a woman before." Lezard continued. "It was an intimacy of a different kind. I was relaxed around you, with no pressures or expectations. You were easy to talk with, more so than you had been the days leading up to our wedding. What gave you me that night, is a gift I value....and one I hope I haven't lost."

He had given her a lot to think about, angles Lenneth hadn't been able to consider while she had been in such emotional distress. She still suffered with the love that had afflicted her, nearly every thought and emotion somehow derived from the need for it. That wasn't just limited to heart break, hope was influenced to, Lenneth daring to think from his words, that maybe just maybe she did matter more to Lezard than either one of them had expected.

She couldn't managed a true smile, her lips curving instead in a shy expressing of her ease. "I would like more nights like that." She confessed to him, and the last of Lezard's tension seemed to melt.

"Then we shall have them." Another kiss on her hand to seal the promise between them, before Lezard allowed them to pull apart. He didn't immediately reach for the food, instead holding her gaze with his own. "Thank you, Lenneth. For giving me a chance..."

"It is I who should be thanking you." Lenneth murmured in response. "For being so understanding. For not pressuring me for more than I can give at this time." She nervously touched fingers to the pendant, feeling the sapphire warmed by her skin. "And for putting up with me, with my outbursts and feelings..."

"You are human now Lenneth. And no human is perfect when it comes to what they feel."

"Human...." She repeated, lowering her gaze to the plates set out between them. But the food held little appeal to her, Lenneth thinking on Lezard's words. On the hard truth of them. She was no longer a Valkyrie, no longer a minor deity that had little time for complex emotions. To be a human meant so much more than just a vastly shortened life span. It meant for good or for bad, to feel, to experience the full spectrum of emotions from the happy ones, to the vile such as hate. Lenneth was already experiencing just a taste of the feelings she was now capable of, heart sick and angsting one moment, to grasping onto slivers of hope the next. These feelings were not something she would have chosen for herself, but Lenneth was anything but a creature that could not adapt. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


End file.
